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V ' 8 « 



SHAKE SPEARE, 

FROM AN AMERICAN POINT OF VIEW; 



INCLUDING 



AR INQ UIE Y AS TO HIS BELIGIO US FAITH, 
AND HIS KJSTO WEED GE OF LA W: 



THE BACONIAN THEORY CONSIDERED. 



BY 

GEORGE WILKES. 



THIRD EDITION, 
REVISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR. 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 

1882. 



IT 



COPYRIGHT BT 

GEORGE WILKES. 



COPYRIGHT BY 

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 

1877. 



SHAKESPEAKE 



FEOM AN AMEEIGAN POINT OF VIEW; 

INCLUDING 

AN INQ UIR Y AS TO HIS BELIGIO US FAITH, 
AND HIS KNO WLED GE OF LA W: 



THE BACONIAN THEORY CONSIDERED. 



23/ 

GEORGE WILKES. 
n 



EEYISED AND CORRECTED BY THE AUTHOR. 

12, 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 
1882. 






COPYRIGHT BY 

GEORGE WILKES 7 



PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 



In presenting a third edition of this work to the public, 
the author thinks it not inappropriate to add a few observa- 
tions to the preface of the first. 

The original edition was issued in London in 1876, by the 
well-known publishing house of Sampson Low & Co. It 
elicited a deal of comment, some of which the author has 
reason to be thankful for ; though much of the English obser- 
vation was impregnated with the tone that it was rather a 
piece of presumption on the part of an American to even 
touch a subject that ought to be considered sacred to English 
pens alone. Of this, however, I have no reason to complain, 
since I had invited the extremest dealing at English literary 
hands. 

From the French press, on the other hand, I received the 
kindest and most considerate treatment ; and here I deem my 
particular thanks due for two elaborate and favorable reviews 
from that leviathan of its own literary waters, the Journal 
des Bebats. 

In the United States, the reception of " Shakespeare, from 
an American Point of View," was of the most nattering char- 
acter; and, indeed, may be characterized as having been 
unanimously favorable. 

Thus encouraged, the author published, in the following 



iv Preface to the Third Edition. 

year (though without correction), an American edition, this 
time having the good fortune of the imprint of the dis- 
tinguished house of Messrs. Appleton and Co. 

The motive for the present issue proceeds from a modifi- 
cation of the author's views in regard to "Evening Mass," and 
also from the necessity of correcting numerous typographical 
errors which resulted from the haste with which he was 
obliged to hurry through the " proofs " of the London copy. 

New discoveries, moreover, in the Shakespearean mine are 
largely answerable for this desire to leave a more complete 
and satisfactory volume with the public. Some of these dis- 
coveries are from Romeo and Juliet, and one of them espe- 
cially may be mentioned here, as relating to the famous Nurse, 
who, instead of being the decrepit crone, as she is always rep- 
resented on the stage, could hardly have been over twenty- 
five or twenty-six years of age, since Juliet, to whom she was 
wet nurse, died at twelve, when her mother, Lady Capulet, 
was barely twenty-eight ! 

This final issue, we may also add, is further justified in 
the recent discovery, by the venerable Shakespearean critic, 
J. Payne Collier, of another play by Shakespeare, in which 
opinion the author is in full accord with him. In this con- 
nection the following personal note by Mr. Collier to the 
author, thanking him for the support he gave his views, is, 
perhaps, not out of place : 

Riveeside, Maidenhead, 

May 6th, 1879. 
Deae Sie: I am very much obliged by your judicious advocacy of my 
opinion regarding " The Warning for Fair Women." If I had been the 
first to say that Shakespeare wrote the soliloquy in " Hamlet," my enemies 
would have disputed it. 

Yours very truly, 

J. Payne Colliee. 
Geoege Wilkes, Esq. 



Preface to the Third Edition. v 

The former views of the author as to " Evening Mass," in- 
asmuch as the j received a large support, and by many are 
still adhered to, have been transferred to the Appendix, that 
they may be compared with those by which they have been 

superseded. 

G. W. 

New Yoke, January, 1881. 



PEEFAOE. 



The following Essays were originally addressed to a pub- 
lic consisting for the most part of American readers; and it 
was the intention of the author to publish them first, in a 
collected form, in the United States. It, however, having be- 
come apparent, in the course of his researches, that it would 
be advisable to consult the British libraries, he concluded to 
issue the work in London. This was the more desirable, be- 
cause a judgment rendered from the fountain-head of English 
criticism, on what may be deemed a conspicuously English 
subject, would seem more satisfactory than from any other 
source. The author, therefore, takes this opportunity to say 
that the most rigorous criticism will not be unwelcome ; not, 
indeed, from any vain confidence in his own views, but because 
they are put forward in good faith, and in order to elicit truth 
concerning a genius who is the richest inheritance of the in- 
tellectual world. Should, indeed, his views be controverted, 
the author must even in that event be a gainer, in common 
with the other admirers of Shakespeare ; for it can never be a 
true source of mortification to relinquish opinions in favor of 
those which are shown to be better. 

Presenting these pages, therefore, rather as a series of in- 
quiries than as dogmatic doctrine, the author strives to support 
them by only such an amount of argument as is legitimately 
due from one who invites the public to a new discussion. 

G. W. 



OONTEH TS. 
fart J. 

GENERAL CIRCUMSTANCES. 

HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL. 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

The Responsibilities of Genius 3 

CHAPTER II. 
Elements op Inquiry 8 

CHAPTER III. 
Loed Baoon 16 

CHAPTER IY. 
William Shakespeare 22 

CHAPTER Y. 
Shakespeare's supposed Personality 33 

CHAPTER VI. 
Shakespeare's Personal Appearance (continued) . . .42 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Religion of the Shakespeare Family 50 



x Contents. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

1 PAGB 

Evening Mass 60 

CHAPTER IX. 
Religion of Shakespeabe 64 

CHAPTER X. 
Shakespeaee's Contempt fob Peotestants 75 

CHAPTER XI. 
Legal Aoqttieements of Shakespeabe 85 



fart It 

THE TESTIMONY OF THE PLAYS. 

TEE COMEDIES. 
CHAPTER XII. 

"The Tempest" .95 

"Two Gentlemen of Yeeona" . . . . . . • . 98 

CHAPTER XIII. 

" The Meeet Wives of Windsob " 107 

"Measuee foe Measuee" 110 

CHAPTER XIY. 

"Comedy of Eeeoes" 120 

"Midsummee Night's Deeam" 124 

CHAPTER XV. 
"The Meechant of Yenioe" 128 

CHAPTER XYI. 
"The Meechant of Yenioe" (continued) 140 



Contents. xi 

CHAPTER XVII. 

PAGE 

"Much Ado about Nothing" 149 

"As You Like It" 152 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"The Taming of the Shrew" 159 

"Love's Labour's Lost" 161 

CHAPTER XIX. 
"All's Well that Ends "Well" . 165 

CHAPTER XX. 

"Twelfth Night; or, "What You Will" 174 

"A Winter's Tale" 177 

CHAPTER XXI. 
The Historical Plays . - 185 

THE HISTORICAL PLA Y8. 
"King John" 191 

CHAPTER XXII. 
"Richard II" . 197 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"Henry IV."— Part I 210 

"Henry IV."— Part II 213 

CHAPTER XXIV. 
"Henry V" 220 

CHAPTER XXV. 
"King Henry VI."— Part I 233 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"King Henry VI."— Part II 238 

The Rebellion of Wat Tyler 239 

The Rebellion of Cade 243 



xii Contents. 

CHAPTEE XXVII. 

PAGE 

" King Heney VI." — Paet II (continued). — Rebellion of Cade . 252 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

"King Henry VI."— Paet III 267 

"Richaed III" 273 

CHAPTER XXIX. 
"King Henry VIII" 279 

TEE TRAGEDIES. 

CHAPTER XXX. 
"Troilus and Ceessida" 288 

CHAPTER XXXI. 
"Timon of Athens" ......... 298 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

" CORIOLANUS " 301 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

"Titus Andeonious " 319 

"Peeicles, Peinoe of Tyee" 327 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"Macbeth" 332 

"Cymbeline" '. .... 336 

" Romeo and Juliet " 344 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

"Julius Caesar" 353 

" Antony and Cleopatra " 365 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 
"Othello" 369 



Contents. xiii 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

PAGE 

"King Leae " 383 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
" Hamlet " . . 402 



fart JU. 

THE MUSICAL OR EUPHONIC TEST. 

SHAKESPEARE AND BACONS RESPECTIVE SENSE OF 
MELODY, OR EAR I OR MUSIC. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. ' 
The Euphonic Test 429 

CHAPTER XL. 
The Euphonic Test (continued) 444 

CHAPTER XLI. 
Recapitulation and Conclusion 463 

Postsoeipt 470 

Appendix to Thied Edition 474 

Appendix No. 2 . 481 



tm I. 

GEK"EEAL OIEOTJMSTAE"OES, 
HISTORICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL. 



SHAKESPEARE, 

FEOM AN AMEKICAN POINT OF VIEW. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF GENIUS. 

The dispute as to the authorship of what are known to 
the world as Shakespeare's plays, first raised in 1856, and 
projected in favor of Sir Francis Bacon, did not attract much 
attention until some time after it was started. Indeed, I had 
not heard that the Shakespearean authorship of these plays 
ever had been questioned until the year 1867, when, in the 
course of a conversation with General B. F. Butler, he asked 
me whether I had read " The Philosophy of Shakespeare's 
Plays Unfolded," by Delia Bacon, remarking, at the same 
time, that he thought her arguments to be of great force, and 
that he favorably regarded the Baconian theory. 

The judgment of so keen a lawyer and critic for a mo- 
ment staggered me, but the proposition was so at variance 
with the settled convictions of my mind that the influence of 
his opinion soon retired before my prepossessions, and I 
readily attributed the General's Baconian inclination to a pro- 
fessional predilection in favor of one of his own calling. The 
question, therefore, when it was afterward raised by others, 
failed to engage my serious attention, until it was again 
broached to me, in Bacon's favor, by an American cavalry 
officer, during an afternoon lounge near Richmond, on the 
Thames, in the latter part of the summer of 1874. Just 



4 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

about that time, there had appeared in the August number of 
" Fraser's Magazine " an exceedingly ingenious article, by a 
young American, under the title of "Who wrote Shake- 
speare?" and singularly enough my West Point friend and I 
accidentally met the author of this very article three nights 
afterward, at a dinner party in London, composed mostly of 
literary men. 

On the following morning, I sought the magazine alluded 
to, but, the edition having been exhausted, I was obliged to 
have recourse to the politeness of the author, who kindly fur- 
nished me with one of six supplementary proofs he had pro- 
cured to be stricken off for his own use. 

Soon afterward, stimulated doubtless by this publication, 
the controversy as to the authorship of the Shakespeare plays 
spread to the United States, and, under the manipulation of 
the American press, elicited a flood of multifarious opinion. 
Amid this ocean of expression, the article in " Fraser " was the 
most notable for plausibility and force ; but, what surprised 
me greatly in running through the views of all these writers 
was, that not one of them touched a fact which had long 
puzzled me concerning Shakespeare, and which had led me 
several years before to read his plays with laborious scrutiny, 
under the idea of writing an essay upon his character and 
principles, from an American point of view. Though not a 
blind worshiper of Shakespeare, I had always been among 
the warmest admirers of his genius, but I never had been able 
to comprehend why it was that, unlike all the great geniuses 
of literature who had come before or after him, and who 
seem, as such, to have been deputized with the creative 
faculty of God, he should be the only one so deficient in that 
beneficent tenderness toward his race, so vacant of those 
sympathies which usually accompany abounding intellectual 
power, as never to have been betrayed into one generous 
aspiration in favor of human liberty, ^ay, worse than this, 
worse than his servility to royalty and rank, we never find 
him speaking of the poor with respect, or alluding to the 
working classes without detestation or contempt. We can 
understand these tendencies as ruling in Lord Bacon, born as 
he was to privilege, and holding office from a queen ; but they 



The Responsibilities of Genius. 5 

seem utterly at variance with the instincts of a man who had 
sprung from the body of the people, and who, through the 
very pursuits of his father, and likewise from his own begin- 
ning, may be regarded as one of the working classes himself. 

Bacon, through his aristocratic training, and influenced by 
the royal system under which he served, may barely be for- 
given, by even his most extreme defenders, for his barrenness 
of that beneficence which genius is delegated to bring to us 
from heaven; but the son of plain John Shakespeare has 
no such excuse. Dickens, who wrote mainly for the lowly ; 
Byron, who, though a noble, fought for human liberty ; Cer- 
vantes, Junius, Goethe, Eugene Sue, Le Sage, De Foe, Walter 
Scott, Yictor Hugo, Oliver Goldsmith, and Scheherezade — 
who talked to a prince for a thousand and one nights in such 
sentiments as have made the literature of Arabia a hymn — 
never lost sight of the hopes and joys and distresses of the 
poor. Shakespeare alone of these mighty souls prefers to be 
the parasite of the rich and lordly, and seldom, if ever, per- 
mits the humble to escape him without a derisive jest or 
sneer. 

William Shakespeare, nevertheless, possessed a larger share 
of the divine creative faculty than any other mortal ; and let 
it not be said that too much is claimed for this poetic attri- 
bute. If the characters produced by mortal imaginations 
have not souls for final judgment, they certainly have forms 
and shapes for human comprehension and for penal criticism. 
They are as much of the world as the world is of us. Othello, 
Manfred, Aladdin, Quasimodo, Gil Bias, Robinson Crusoe, 
B-asselas, Micawber, Don Quixote, the Yicar of Wakefield, 
and Ivanhoe are as actual to our appreciations as the real 
Mahomet, Csesar, Zenghis Khan, Napoleon, or Martin Luther ; 
as real, in fact, as are Vesuvius and ^Etna, to those who have 
never actually looked upon them. The manner, consequently, 
in which these fictitious characters are morally developed to 
the reader imposes as great responsibilities upon their authors 
as does the just presentation of the truths of history. 

The singular oversight of so prominent a fact as Shake- 
speare's aristocratic tendencies, by the Baconians, may per- 
haps be accounted for by the fact that their theory is still 



6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

quite new, the ground having first been broken by Delia 
Bacon, of Boston, as late as 1856, and only languidly followed 
since by a few American lawyers and aristocratic Englishmen, 
severally stimulated by pride of profession or conceit of 
caste. To the masses of the English people it is really a 
matter of no great importance whether one Englishman or 
another was the author of the Shakespearean dramas; for 
the dust of two centuries has fallen so evenly on both that 
all minor preferences are leveled out. With Americans, 
however, the question is somewhat different. 

The pamphlet of the American lady, who had been inspired 
to the Baconian theory, perhaps, by a mere pride of name, 
began to attract favorable attention from the English aris- 
tocracy in 1858, and some of its leaders apparently brought 
themselves to the opinion that it would profit the prestige 
of their order if the world could be made to believe that the 
great writer, who had dwarfed them all for centuries, was a 
scion of their stock. It has always been the tendency of 
patrician politics, when the merit of the lowly-born can not 
be withstood, to mask its origin by artfully recruiting it into 
its own ranks, so that talented humbleness may file thereafter 
down the aisles of the future under the aspect of a lord. This 
policy has been so conspicuous during the last hundred years 
that there can hardly be a doubt, had the author of " Hamlet" 
lived a few generations later, that he would have figured upon 
the title-page of his immortal works as Lord Shakespeare, or 
Sir William at the least. The British nobility would have 
thus been spared the desire of adopting the American woman's 
theory in transferring the glory of William Shakespeare to 
Sir Francis Bacon. 

Conspicuous among the noblemen who favored the Ba- 
conian theory in England was Lord Palmerston, who flatly 
maintained " that the plays of Shakespeare were written by 
Lord Yerulam (Sir Francis Bacon), who had passed them off 
under the name of an actor, for fear of compromising his 
professional prospects and philosophic gravity." On being 
opposed in this declaration (says the author of the article in 
" Fraser ") by the positive testimony of Ben Jonson as to 
Shakespeare's authorship, Palmerston replied, " Oh, those 



The Responsibilities of Genius, 7 

fellows always stand up for one another, or perhaps Jonson " 
(added his lordship) " may have been deceived like the rest." 
Here was the weighty authority of two prominent states- 
men and lawyers, Palmerston and Butler, relatively of England 
and America, fencing the very threshold of my inquiry ; and 
it consequently behooved me to advance with wary footsteps 
into the shades of the enigma, and prove, at the very outset, 
if I desired to controvert them and their increasing followers, 
that the author of the Shakespeare plays could not have been 
(like Bacon) either a statesman or a lawyer — proofs that must, 
of necessity, be sought from internal evidence furnished by 
the plays themselves, since all contemporary testimony had 
left these points unsettled. The best means remaining, there- 
fore, after the lapse of over two hundred years, is to question 
the souls of the departed Titans, as they still live and breathe 
within their respective imperishable pages. 



8 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER II. 

ELEMENTS OF INQUIRY. 

One of the objects of this inquiry will be an attempt to 
establish the degree of difference, if any, in which the Shake- 
spearean volume should be regarded, in England and America, 
as a family text-book ; and whether, as a household teacher, it 
should share among Americans, as with Englishmen, domestic 
reverence and authority almost with the Bible. And this 
inquiry will logically extend itself so as to comprehend the 
social and religious, as well as the political, inculcations of the 
Shakespearean volume. Also, the probable religious faith of 
our poet himself. 

Following the inquiry still further, we shall endeavor to 
ascertain what difference, if any, in " musical ear," or sense of 
music, is exhibited relatively in the Plays and Essays ; so as to 
enable us to determine, with almost absolute certainty, whether 
one and the same man could have been the author of both. 
In this latter branch of my inquiry I shall not disdain the aid 
of musical experts. 

Dealing with almost any other poet than the author of 
Shakespeare's Plays, it would be a matter of comparative in- 
difference what his ideas were as to the separation of the 
classes or upon the science of government; but if we are to 
install a monitor within our homes as a domestic god, or adopt 
a writer as a political instructor, it is of importance we should 
know how much credit to concede to such an author's con- 
science and principles. It will readily be seen, therefore, that 
Shakespeare, notwithstanding the willing homage of Ameri- 



Elements of Inquiry. 9 

cans, is a character of much more consequence to Englishmen, 
and especially to the ruling classes of Great Britain, than he 
can ever be to the republican citizens of the United States. 
With us he is but the Poet, mighty beyond comparison ; but 
to the patrician classes of Great Britain he is not only the 
Poet, but the Patron of their order, and also the priceless in. 
culcator of those forms of popular obsequiousness which long 
have been the puzzle of the civilized world, under the almost 
purely personal form of English patriotism. The author of 
the Shakespeare plays has been, in this way, the teeming 
source, the incessant fountain, the constant domineering influ- 
ence, which has done more to continue the worship of the 
English people for royalty and rank than all other agencies 
combined. Well may the nobility of England be jealous of 
his intellectual preeminence, and defend him as the greatest 
genius ever given to the world. They have an interest in his 
popular supremacy which they can not afford to surrender ; 
for he has been worth to them, during the last two hundred 
years, millions of men and billions upon billions of money. 
He deserves at their hands a monument more lofty than the 
Pyramids ; while it is very questionable, on the other hand, if 
the English masses owe him anything beyond their involuntary 
admiration for his mind. It suggests itself to me at this point, 
therefore, that it would perhaps be a better policy for the 
British aristocracy to leave this mighty Yoice to continue 
to speak from among The People, rather than as one of the 
aristocratic masters of The People. 

But we must not be beaten back from our inquiry by the 
awe of generations. We must demand boldly who and what 
this mighty genius was — what were his principles, his char- 
acter, his faith, his motive in writing as he did, and if possible 
what manner of man he was in his familiar way of life. And 
all this in order, first, to decide the question as between Shake- 
speare and Bacon, and then to assign to the actual writer of 
the Shakespeare plays the position, as a poet, moralist, and 
public teacher, to which he may be entitled among the Eng- 
lish-speaking race of both sides of the Atlantic. 

The first objection to the authorship of William Shake- 
speare which the Baconians raise is, that no man of such 



io Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

humble origin, deficient scholarship, and loose way of life 
could have been possessed of such profound knowledge as 
Shakespeare exhibited, and be capable of such transcendent 
imagery and marvelous finesse as these plays develop ; nay, 
that no mere play-writer could have shown such a familiarity 
with court etiquette and with the language of nobles and of 
kings as he. But the force of these objections is seriously 
damaged by the reflection that none of the disciples of the 
Baconian theory who have sprung up in America ever had 
the advantage of studying the manners, or the " set phrase 
of courts," themselves. And here I may be allowed to as- 
sume that the writer of the Shakespeare plays himself spoke 
much better English than any prince or noble of Elizabeth's 
court. 

As to the character and morals of William Shakespeare, 
he certainly suffers nothing from a comparison with Sir Fran- 
cis Bacon. To deal with Shakespeare first, he began life as a 
deer-stealer and hard drinker, 1 had a child born to him in less 

1 This latter seems to be a harsh, declaration, but I find my authority 
for it in pages 8 and 9 of the Memoir of Shakespeare by the Rev. "William 
Harness, M. A., in Cooledge & Brother's New York edition of Scott, "Web- 
ster & Geary's London edition of the "Works of Shakespeare. I need 
not say to Shakespearean scholars that the authority of Mr. Harness is 
entitled to the highest respect. 

"The gayety of his [Shakespeare's] disposition," says Mr. Harness, 
" naturally inclined him to society ; and the thoughtlessness of youth pre- 
vented his being sufficiently scrupulous about the conduct and the char- 
acter of his associates. ' He had, by a misfortune, common enough to 
young fellows, fallen into ill company,' says Rowe ; and the excesses into 
which they seduced him were by no means consistent with that serious- 
ness of deportment and behavior which is expected to accompany the 
occupation that he had adopted. The following anecdote of these days 
of his riot is still current at Stratford, and the neighboring village of 
Bidford. I give it in the words of the author from whom it is taken. 
Speaking of Bidford, he says : ' There were anciently two societies of vil- 
lage yeomanry in this place, who frequently met under the appellation of 
Bidford topers. It was a custom of these heroes to challenge any of their 
neighbors, famed for the love of good ale, to a drunken combat; among 
others, the people of Stratford were called out to a trial of strength, and 
in the number of their champions, as the traditional story runs, our Shake- 
speare, who foreswore all thin potations, and addicted himself to ale as 
lustily as Falstaff to his sack, is said to have entered the lists. In con- 



Elements of Inquiry. 1 1 

than six months after marriage, 3 and lived in London during 
all his theatrical career without his wife. 3 He was so mean as 



firmation of this tradition, we find an epigram written by Sir Aston 
Cockany, and published in his poems in 1658. It runs thus : 

'""TO ME. CLEMENT FISHER, OF WINCOT. 

Shakespeare your Wincot ale hath much renown'd, 
That fox'd a beggar so (by chance was found 
Sleeping) that there needed not many a word 
To make him to believe he was a lord : 
But you affirm (and in it seem most eager) 
'Twill make a lord as drunk as any beggar. 
Bid Norton brew such ale as Shakespeare fancies 
Did put Kit Sly into such lordly trances ; 
And let us meet there (for a fit of gladness), 
And drink ourselves merry in sober sadness." 

" ' "When the Stratford lads went over to Bidford, they found the 
topers were gone to Eversham fair, but were told, if they wished to try 
their strength with the sippers, they were ready for the contest. This 
being acceded to, our bard and his companions were staggered at the first 
outset, when they thought it advisable to sound a retreat, while the means 
of retreat were practicable, and then had scarce marched half a mile before 
they were all forced to lay down more than their- arms, and encamp in a 
very disorderly and unmilitary form, under no better covering than a large 
crab-tree, and there they rested till morning. 

" ' This tree is yet standing by the side of the road. If, as it has been 
observed by the late Mr. T. Wharton, the meanest hovel to which Shake- 
speare has an allusion interests curiosity and acquires an importance, surely 
the tree which has spread its shade over him, and sheltered him from the 
dews of the night, has a claim to our attention. 

" 'In the morning, when the company awakened our bard,' the story 
says, ' they entreated him to return to Bidford and renew the charge, but 
this he declined, and, looking round upon the adjoining villages, exclaimed, 
" No ! I have had enough ; I have drunk with 

Piping Pebworth, Dancing Marston, 
Haunted Hillbro', Hungry Grafton, 
Dudging Exhall, Papist "Wicksford, 
Beggarly Broom, and Drunken Bidford." 

" ' Of the truth of this story I have very little doubt. It is certain 
that the crab-tree is known all round the country by the name of Shake- 
speare's crab, and that the villages to which the allusion is made all bear 
the epithets here given them : the people of Pebworth are still famed for 



12 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

to sue one man for a debt of £6, and another for £1 19s. 10<#.,* 
when he had an income of £1000 a year, and died, at the age 
of fifty-two, from the effect of too much drink at dinner. 6 Sir 
Francis Bacon, on the other hand, was all his life a clamorous 
office-seeker, a time-server, and a corrupt judge. He was con- 
demned to the Tower, when Lord Chancellor, for having sold 
his judicial opinions for money, and, worse still, confessed tho 
crime in order to mitigate his sentence. On a review of his 
whole character, the poet Pope stingingly characterized him as 

" The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." 

So between William Shakespeare and Sir Francis Bacon, in a 
moral point of view, there was no great gulf. Indeed, if there 
were any disparagement of degradation, it was against the 
circumspect Sir Francis. 

Most of the Shakespearean biographers and critics make it 
a matter of regret that so little is known of the history of the 
great poet as to render it exceedingly difficult to form a true 
estimate of his personal character ; but the main difficulty I 
find is, that these biographers and commentators nearly all 
start from the one point, of endeavoring to conceal, or at least 
to palliate, the follies and defects which might impair his 
standing with the people. They set out, consequently, to de- 
scribe Shakespeare as they would like to have him. His rob- 
bing of a gentleman's park, a very high offense at any time 
in England, is patronized gently as a youthful escapade, and 
the premature appearance of his first child after marriage has 

their skill on the pipe and tabor ; Hillborough is now called Haunted Hill- 
borough, and Grafton is notorious for the poverty of its soil.' 

"The above relation, if it be true, presents us with a most unfavorable 
picture of the manners and morals prevalent among the youth of War- 
wickshire in the early years of Shakespeare, and it fills us with regret to 
find our immortal poet, with faculties so exalted, competing the bad pre- 
eminence in such abominable contests. It is some relief to know that, 
though he erred in uniting himself with such gross associations, he was 
the first to retreat from them in disgust." 

2 Knight's "Shakespeare," Appleton &Co.'s American edition, p. 144; 
K. Grant White, p. 145. 

3 Kenney, London edition, p. 26. 4 Knight, vol. i, p. 158. 
6 Eichard Grant White, pp. 46, 55. 



Elements of Inquiry. 13 

been justified by the presumed privileges of a Warwickshire 
betrothal. 

There has been some dispute among Shakespeare's biogra- 
phers about his religious faith, a few having presented evidences 
tending to show that he was a Roman Catholic ; but the great 
majority, being of Protestant politics, discourage that idea. 
Bacon we know to have been a Protestant of an extreme type, 
and from this difference springs an interesting point of our in- 
vestigation. The question presents itself at once, as to which 
religious faith is most manifested in the plays. If they were 
the production of a Roman Catholic, Bacon could not pos- 
sibly have been their author. 

What we have first upon our hands, however, is the singu- 
lar anomaly presented by the spectacle of a genius of the cre- 
ative order, who was born in comparative humbleness, never 
betraying one emotion for, or exhibiting a single sympathy 
with, the down-trodden classes, whose degradations and mis- 
eries must have constantly intruded upon his subtle compre- 
hension. But the mist lifts before the light of facts. We have 
sufficient evidence that Shakespeare was, though probably of 
a cheerful, amiable disposition, a calculating, money-saving 
man ; and the conclusion from the circumstances of his busi- 
ness in London and at Stratford must be, that he sometimes 
suppressed his natural sentiments to a convenience of associa- 
tion and a sense of interest. His first patron, when he was a 
theatrical manager, was the Earl of Southampton, a prodigal 
young nobleman of enormous wealth, who, together with the 
Earls of Essex and of Rutland, were constant visitors at his 
theatre. 6 

Indeed, so thoroughly had Shakespeare established himself 
under the patronage of Southampton, that lie dedicated to 
him his " Venus and Adonis," and in the following year, also 
his " Lucrece." By way of showing, moreover, the extent to 
which the dramatist had advanced himself into his lordship's 
favor, Richard Grant White states (p. 97) that Shakespeare 
took this liberty in the matter of "Yenus and Adonis" with- 
out, " as the dedication shows," asking his lordship's permis- 

• The " Authorship of Shakespeare," Nathaniel Holmes, p. 95. 



14 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

sion ; a very unusual responsibility, says the same commenta- 
tor, to assume with, the name of any man, much less a noble- 
man, unless he had felt himself secure in his lordship's good 
graces. Southampton was at this time under twenty years of 
age, and Essex (subsequently the favorite of Queen Elizabeth) 
was but four years older. In speaking of these young noble- 
men and their associates, Judge Holmes, in his essay in favor 
of the Baconian theory, says that Southampton, Rutland, and 
the rest of Essex's jovial crew " pass their time in London in 
merely going to plays every day." 

It was about this time, says Rowe, that " my Lord South- 
ampton at one time gave Shakespeare £1,000 to enable him to 
go through a purchase he had a mind to." This princely gift 
is, of course, ascribed to Southampton's estimation of the muse 
of Shakespeare, but, inasmuch as Southampton never exhibited 
any appreciation of literature beyond having the run of Shake- 
speare's theatre, we are justified in attributing the earl's at- 
tachment to the manager to considerations which frequently 
operate with young men of means and fashion down to the 
present day. It is true that, in Shakespeare's time, there 
were no actresses attached to theatrical companies, the female 
parts being performed by boys, but it was the custom of ladies 
of quality to sit upon the stage during theatrical entertain- 
ments, and there are several anecdotes of intrigues having 
taken place between them and young gallants under such 
circumstances. And this theory of personal familiarity be- 
tween Shakespeare and a coroneted gallant of nineteen is none 
the less likely than the one which ascribes Southampton's lib- 
erality to his patronage of literature, since that nobleman lived 
till he was fifty-four without having given any other evidence 
of a love of letters. 7 



7 This suggestion, which merely intimates that Shakespeare's good 
nature or facility of disposition, in allowing his friends " the run of his 
house," never troubled itself with looking after their purposes, has been, 
denounced by some over-zealous English critics, as a most villainous in- 
sinuation; while one, the "London Civil Service Gazette," generously 
insinuates that, from the glibness with which Mr. Wilkes 'prefers the 
charge, "they may yet have to learn that the character of 'bawd confers 
an honorable distinction in American society." Nevertheless, it might be 



Elements of Inquiry. 15 

Considerations such as the foregoing would as satisfactorily 
account for the absence in Shakespeare of liberal sentiments, 
as the natural tendencies of Bacon's rank would account for 
the latter's aristocratic chilliness of heart. 

Let not the rapt worshipers of Avon's bard, whose sacred 
ecstasy is thus rudely broken in upon, suppose I take plea- 
sure in these hard statistics. Nothing can reduce Shakespeare 
from the supreme elevation which he holds in the United States 
as the poet of the English-speaking race ; but we in America 
take no interest in him as a politician, nor yet as a moralist ; 
and, surely it is wiser for us, who are not involved in any tan- 
gles of allegiance, to disenchant ourselves of the spells fumed 
up by loyalty and doctrine, and treat this mighty mortal as a 
man. Perhaps the most curious and interesting problem which 
can thus be brought to our comprehension is — what amount 
of dirt may mix with and be instrumental in the production 
of a flaming gem. And Bacon is as subject to this criticism 
as Shakespeare. 

curious to know what such sensitive writers as the above would think of 
the moral condition of our poet's mind when he wrote the 20th, the 42d, 
and the 121st Sonnets. 



1 6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEE III. 

LORD BACON. 

" They say, best men are molded out of faults." 

Measure for Measure, Act V, Scene 1. 

The theory that Lord Verulam (familiarly known as Lord 
Bacon) was the author of the plays attributed to Shakespeare, 
first became a matter of general discussion, as I have already 
stated, through an article by Delia Bacon, in the January num- 
ber of " Putnam's Magazine " for 1856, published in America 
— three hundred and fifteen years after Bacon was born, and 
two hundred and fifty-nine years after "William Shakespeare 
had been buried. The claim set up for Bacon, therefore, is 
barely nineteen years old, as against the nearly three hundred 
years of general acceptance, by history, of Shakespeare's 
rights. Shortly after the appearance of Miss Bacon's essay in 
the American magazine, she published it, enlarged into a book, 
with an introduction by Nathaniel Hawthorne. In this shape 
it crossed jthe Atlantic, and had its ideas adopted by an 
English writer named William H. Smith, who supported and 
extended her views in an ingenious treatise published by him 
in London in 1857. Eight years afterward, the November 
number of " Fraser's Magazine " for 1865 showed that Lord 
Palmerston had become a convert to the Baconian theory, 
and in the following year Nathaniel Holmes, Professor of 
Law in Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., issued an 
elaborate volume of six hundred pages supporting Miss Bacon's 
view. Here we have the whole scope of the Baconian pre- 
tension, comprising at the most a period of twenty years, with 
a meager following of conspicuous advocates ; while, on the 



Lord Bacon. 1 7 

other hand, stand grouped in silent protest a crowd of Baco- 
nian biographers, stretching through wellnigh three centuries, 
who, with the greatest desire to aggrandize the object of their 
worship, never conceived the idea that Bacon could possibly 
have been the author of the plays of Shakespeare. Nay, one 
of the latest, W. Hep worth Dixon, writing as late as 1861, x 
alludes to Shakespeare distinctly a sa separate person from the 
subject of his work. 

Having thus marshaled the forces of the two parties to 
the controversy (for the silence of Bacon's biographers practi- 
cally arrays them on the side of Shakespeare), it now suggests 
itself that we should inquire briefly into the separate histories 
of Bacon and Shakespeare, and ascertain what connection 
each had with the literature of his age, and what, if any, were 
their relations to one another. They are consigned to us by 
the history of the times in which they lived as two characters ; 
one as the unapproachable Master of Philosophy and Law, 
and the other as the most transcendent genius of Poetry and 
Imagination. 2 

LORD BACON. 

Sm Francis Bacon, Lord Yerulam, Yiscount St. Albans, 
and Lord High Chancellor of England, was born January 22, 
1560. He matriculated at Trinity College, Cambridge, at the 
age of thirteen, and soon afterward passed two years in travel 
on the European continent. In 1584 he first sat in the House 
of Commons as member for Melcombe, and from this time 
(though he was by courtesy the Queen's Lord Keeper at the 
age of ten), may be dated the commencement of his public 
official career. 

In the parliamentary sessions of 1586-'88 young Bacon 
played an influential part. " These three sessions," says 
Dixon, " had to save the liberties of England and the faith of 

1 Dixon's " Personal History of Lord Bacon," Boston, 1861. 

3 " Those two incomparable men, the Prince of Poets and the Prince of 
Philosophers, who made the Elizabethan age a more glorious and import- 
ant era in the history of the human mind than the age of Pericles, of 
Agustus, or of Leo." — Lord Macaulay, "Essay on Burleigh and his Times," 
vol. v, p. 611, ed. Trevelyan. 



1 8 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

nearly half of Europe. They crushed the Jesuits and broke 
and punished the Komanist conspiracies." This fixes Bacon's 
faith, like that of his mother, the pious Lady Ann (whom he 
speaks of as " a saint of G-od "), to be of the Protestant per- 
suasion, though we find a more decisive proof of Bacon's 
doctrine in the fact that he was one of a committee which, in 
1587, waited upon Queen Elizabeth to demand the execution 
of Mary, Queen of Scots. To use the words of Dixon in de- 
scribing the scene: "The Queen [Elizabeth] holds out. A 
grand committee, of which Bacon is a member, goes into the 
presence, and, kneeling together at her feet, demand that the 
national will shall be done — that the Protestant faith shall be 
saved." 3 

About the year 1589, we find Bacon, who was then be- 
tween twenty-nine and thirty years of age, the associate of 
Essex, who was twenty-three, of Southampton, who was nine- 
teen, Montgomery, Pembroke, Eutland, " and the rest of 
Essex's jovial crew, which passed their time in going to 
Shakespeare's theatre every day." At this time Shakespeare 
himself, though already famous, was but twenty-five. This 
brings the above noblemen so in communication with Shake- 
speare, though above him, that nothing is more probable than 
that some of his un played manuscripts were read to "Essex, 
Southampton, and the rest," perhaps in Bacon's presence — a 
common custom with authorship and princely patronage in 
the Elizabethan age. 

On the other hand, it is not impossible that Shakespeare, 
who doubtless was a great reader, touched now and then upon 
some of Bacon's theories, and thus we may readily account for 
any supposed plagiarism of one upon the other. I do not 
wish to be understood, however, as admitting at this point 
that either of these wondrous men was ever indebted to the 
other for an idea ; though the most exacting devotee of Bacon 
might readily admit the occasional obligation of the latter to 
the poet, without brushing a single grain of the golden pow- 
der from his idol's wing. The likelihood, indeed, is far greater 
that Bacon insensibly fell into the habit, during the early 

8 Dixon's "Personal History of Lord Bacon," p. 29. 



Lord Bacon. 



19 



summer of Shakespeare's popularity, of drawing from him as 
from a common well of language. This has been the custom 
of the world since he appeared, and even such a man as 
Bacon could hardly have resisted the temptation. 

The spinal column of the Baconian claim is, that Sir 
Francis Bacon considered the reputation of a playwright to 
be so derogatory to his social and literary pretensions, as well 
as to his high political aspirations, that he concealed his taste 
for dramatic writing under the convenient mask of the good- 
natured and popular manager of the Blackfriars Theatre ; or, 
to use the language of the article in " Fraser," that he (Bacon) 
" passed the plays off under the name of an actor, for fear of 
compromising his professional prospects and philosophic grav- 
ity." But the main difficulty in the way of this theory is, 
that successful dramatic composition was recognized by very 
high honors in the times of Elizabeth and James I. The dra- 
matists of that day were most of them men of scholarship ; 
several being of a social position quite worthy of ranking 
with that of Sir Francis Bacon. For instance, Massinger, 
" second to none but him who never had an equal," received 
his education at Oxford, and lived to an old age, " solaced by 
the applauses of the virtuous." 4 Beaumont and Fletcher (the 
latter of whom was buried in the same grave with Massinger) 
were lawyers — in all ages the profession of gentlemen. Mar- 
lowe, the tragic poet, matriculated at Cambridge ; Shirley 
studied at Oxford; Ben Jonson "had the singular happiness 
of receiving his education under the illustrious Camden." His 
studies were interrupted by his change of circumstances, 
through his mother's death, but they were finally completed 
at Cambridge ; Quarles was educated at Cambridge ; Lyly 
went first to Oxford and finished at Cambridge ; and grouped 
with these come Thomas Sackville, subsequently Lord Treas- 
urere, and, we may add, Sir Philip Sidney, the equal of princes, 
who " wrote one dramatic piece, c The Lady of the May,' a 
masque, acted before Elizabeth." Sidney was Elizabeth's " am- 
bassador to the German powers, but, when the fame of his 
valor and genius became so general that he was put in nomi- 

4 Knight's octavo, published by Guy & Baine, London, p. 37. 



20 Shakespeare, front an American Point of View. 

nation for the kingdom of Poland, she refused to sanction his- 
advancement lest she should lose the brightest jewel in her 
court." 5 Surely this illustrious example of honor and advance- 
ment might have justitied Bacon, after the mighty merits of 
such productions as "Lear," " Hamlet," and "Othello "had 
been recognized by the best critics of the time, to accept the 
credit of their composition — provided always that he was their 
author. Besides, Bacon openly wrote dramatic compositions 
under the form of masques and mysteries; first, for the gen- 
tlemen at Gray's Inn during the Christmas revels of 1587, 
and subsequently, in 1594, for the entertainment of the court. 6 

Bacon married Alice Barnham at the age of forty-six ; at 
fifty-two he was made Attorney-General, and became Lord 
Chancellor at the age of fifty-seven. In the fourth year of 
this great office he was detected in taking bribes for his de- 
cisions, and, having confessed his crime in order to propitiate 
the mercy of the Court, was sent to the Tower on May 3, 162L 
After remaining a prisoner for ten months, the fine inflicted 
on him was remitted, and he was released in March, 1622. 
He never resumed public life, but died three years afterward 
in 1625. Bacon was a thorough specimen of the politician of 
his time, being a persistent applicant for office, and always- 
selfish, sordid, and unfaithful. He was exceedingly wasteful of 
money ; and, though his revenues most of the time were large, 
he was constantly the victim of the usurers. Some of his bio- 
graphers describe him as pure in his morals and temperate in 
his habits, which certainly does not seem to represent the case 
of William Shakespeare. 

Dixon speaks of Bacon as " a man born to high rank who 
seeks incessantly for place," while, according to Pope and 
Lord Campbell, Cecil and Coke, he is " in turn abject, venal,, 
proud, profuse — ungrateful for the gifts of Essex, mercenary 
in his love for Alice Barnham, servile to the House of Com- 
mons, and corrupt on the judicial bench." 7 The most note- 
worthy feature of the last work of Dixon is, that its author 
does not make even the slightest allusion to the Bacon-Shake- 

6 Knight's octavo, p. 43. 8 Holmes, p. 90. 

7 Dixon's " Personal History of Lord Bacon," Boston, 1861, p. 4. 



Lord Bacon. 2 1 

speare theory, though that theory had then been projected full 
five years. And, perhaps, at this point, it is worthy of men- 
tion that Bacon, on the other hand, never, in all his volumi- 
nous writings, made the most distant allusion to Shakespeare. 
Such was Bacon, for whom the Baconians claim that he 
possessed more of the education, wit, emotional elevation, and 
moral fitness for the production of such intellectual light as 
beams through the plays before us, than the man to whom 
these plays have always been ascribed, and who indisputably 
wrote " Yenus and Adonis," the "Sonnets," and "Lucrece." 



22 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View* 



CHAPTER IT. 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEAEE. 

" It is quite a fallacy," says Halliwell, one of the most 
painstaking of the biographers of Shakespeare, " to complain 
how little we are acquainted with William Shakespeare's 
career and worldly character. On the contrary, we should be 
thankful we know more of him than we do of Spenser, or of 
many others, the history of whose lives would be so interest- 
ing and so valuable." ' " We know more of William Shake- 
speare before he was forty years old," says Richard Grant 
White, taking up his cue from Halliwell, " than we do of 
Oliver Cromwell at the same age ; than the Greeks knew of 
iEschylus, the father of their tragedy; or of Aristophanes, 
the father of their comedy, two centuries after they died ; or 
than the French do of Moliere, not a page of whose manu- 
scripts is known to be in existence." a Nevertheless, these com- 
parisons are exceptional, and adroitly, rather than logically, 
put ; for we must still confess that there is scarcely anything 
of a directly personal nature clearly known of William Shake- 
speare. The meager records of his birthplace merely trace his 
parentage, his marriage, and his death ; while all other per- 
sonal traces are so dim and doubtful as to leave it open, even 
to this day, for him to be questioned of the authorship of his 
works. It has not been for want of search that so little of 
him has been known. Certainly, it may be said, that never 
have the history and antecedents of any man who ever lived 
been so industriously ransacked and so studiously pondered 

1 Halliwell's " Shakespeare," p. 2. 

2 Kichard Grant White, pp. 182, 184, 185. 



William Shakespeare. 23 

over as his. And jet, it is possible for one of his most reliable 
biographers to say with truth, that " all that is known with 
any certainty concerning him is that he was born at Stratford- 
on-Avon, married, and had children there ; went to London, 
where he commenced actor, and wrote poems and plays ; re- 
turned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried." 
Doubtless there were many details of the early life of William 
Shakespeare within the reach of the early English biographers, 
had they, at his beginning, thought him worth the while, or 
deemed it politic to state all they knew about him. 

Unhappily, however, in degree as he grew in consequence, 
"recollections" became manufactured, or were distended into 
fable, and there is now very little told concerning him of 
which we can be certain. 

For these reasons, I shall, while treating of Shakespeare's 
personal history, for the purposes of this inquiry, prefer to be 
very brief, asking only that the reader will excuse me for being 
obliged to go again over much ground which every student 
will recognize to be trite and old. It will be perceived, how- 
ever, on all sides, that this course is necessary, in order that 
my opinions may be stated. 

William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, on 
the 23d of April, 1564. His father, John Shakespeare, was, 
according to Rowe, a considerable dealer in wool, and had 
been first alderman and then high bailiff of the body coporate 
of Stratford. He had also been chamberlain, and possessed 
lands and tenements which were said to have been the reward 
of his grandfather's services to King Henry VII. It has also 
been said that John Shakespeare at one time followed the 
occupation of a butcher ; but this report doubtless grew out of 
his occasionally adding to his trade in wool the sale of furs, 
and, when opportunity invited, according to the custom of 
country stores, the sale of butcher's meat. At the birth of 
our poet, John Shakespeare was in a thriving condition, and 
this prosperity continued for some years afterward. William, 
as soon as he had arrived at a proper age, was placed at a free 
grammar school of the town of Stratford, where Latin and 
other liberal acquirements were taught ; but at the age of four- 
teen he was rather suddenly withdrawn, in consequence of the 



24 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

decline in his father's circumstances, either to assist him in his 
business, or to lend a hand in gaining his own livelihood. Some 
of the commentators think that from school he went into the 
office of a country attorney, or was placed with the seneschal 
of some manor court, " where," says one writer, " it is highly 
probable he picked up those law phrases that so frequently 
occur in his plays, and which could not have been in common 
use, unless among professional men. 8 This view, in addition 
to being in itself very plausible, derives its main support from 
an attack made upon Shakespeare by one of his London 
dramatic contemporaries, Robert Greene, who, jealous of our 
poet's rapid rise over all his rivals in popular estimation, 
sneered at him for presuming to be " the only Shake-scene in 
a countrey." * Nash, a parasite of Greene's, and of the same 
coarse, envious character, next attacks and practically advises 
our poet to return to his original " trade of noverint" 6 which 
indicates the calling of an attorney's clerk. 6 The age of four- 
teen, therefore, which sees Shakespeare retire from the Strat- 
ford school, is the trne commencement of his public life. 

It now becomes a matter of importance to our inquiry to 
ascertain with what religious sentiments or leanings William 
Shakespeare embarked upon the world ; for, after all, though 

3 Duyckinck's "Life of Shakespeare," in Porter & Ooate's edition, 
Philadelphia, 1874, p. 3. 

4 "Trust them not [i. e., the players], for there is an upstart crow, 
beautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger's heart wrapt in a player's 
hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best 
of you ; and, being an absolute Johannes factotum, is, in his own conceit, 
the only Shake-scene in a countrey." — Greene's "Groat's Worth of Wit." 

6 Noverint universi per presentes is the Latin for "know all men by 
these presents," hence attorneys were often called noverints from their 
frequent use of that term. The nickname could apply to no other class. 

6 "It is a common practice nowadays, among a sort of shiftless com- 
panions that run through every art and thrive by none, to leave the trade 
of noverint, whereto tbey were born, and busy themselves with the en- 
deavors of art, though they could scarcely Latinize their neck- verse if they 
should have need ; yet English Seneca, read by candlelight, yields many 
good sentences — and, if you entreat him fair in a frosty morning, he will 
afford you whole Hamlets, I should say, handfuls of tragical speeches." — 
Nash's Introduction to Greene's "Menaphon," 1859, and Knight, vol. i, 
p. 102. 



William Shakespeare. 25 

men may drop the observance of religious forms, as the con- 
stant pressure of expanding worldly knowledge chips that 
reverence away, the early teachings of a religious mother 
always represent a large dormant influence, which awakens at 
every opportunity, to give direction to the general flow of 
judgment. And it is entirely well settled that Mary Arden, 
the mother of William Shakespeare, was a Roman Catholic. 
We have already seen that the mother of Francis Bacon was 
a Protestant. By following these contrasted lines of inquiry, 
and gauging them carefully, as we go along, by the invariable 
religious sentiment of the Shakespeare plays, we must finally 
reach a point decisive. For, though Shakespeare may be sup- 
posed to have been influenced by the political predilections of 
his noble patrons Essex and Southampton from any expression 
savoring of democracy, yet it is not to be credited that a 
man of his early training could have been domineered by them 
from the natural flow of his home-implanted faith. On the 
contrary, there is much reason to believe that, in this particu- 
lar, he and they were in full Catholic accord. 

Let me add at this point that it is certainly known Sir 
Thomas Lucy, whose deer were stolen by Shakespeare soon 
after he left school, and under whose persecutions it seems the 
future poet was finally driven out of Stratford, was of that 
strict shade of reformed faith known as Puritan, and, as such, 
was one of a commission appointed by the government to 
report against heretics and Nonconformists. 7 As such com- 

7 Harness, in describing the incident between Sir Thomas Lucy and 
young Shakespeare, which had such a decisive influence upon the poet's 
life, says: "One of the favorite amusements of the wild companions with 
whom Shakespeare in his youthful days allied himself was the stealing of 
deer and corries. In these hazardous exploits Shakespeare was not back- 
ward in accompanying his comrades. The person in whose neighborhood, 
perhaps on whose property, these encroachments were made was of all 
others the individual from whose hands they were least likely to escape with 
impunity in case of detection. Sir Thomas Lucy was a Puritan; and the 
severity of manners which has always characterized this sect would teach 
him to extend very little indulgence to the excesses of Shakespeare and 
his willful companions. He was, besides, a game preserver : in his place 
as a member of Parliament he had been an active instrument in the forma- 
tion of the game laws, and the trespasses of our poet, whether committed 



26 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

missioner, Sir Thomas Lucy, with, the rest of the boards 
reported against John Shakespeare, the father, and about 
fourteen other persons, for not having, during several weeks, 
made their appearance at church. Eight of these derelicts, 
among whom we again find John Shakespeare, were likewise 
impugned with the further motive of desiring by such non- 
attendance to evade the service of process for debt. This lat- 
ter imputation is rather eagerly adopted by the Protestant 
biographers of Shakespeare in preference to the first, because, 
perhaps, they are thus enabled to escape the full strength of 
the inference that the Shakespeare family was of the Roman 
Catholic faith. 

Before proceeding further as to Shakespeare's religious 
faith, I will return to the historical narration, in order that 
the decisive questions of our poet's social, political, and re- 
ligious sentiments may follow in regular order, and lead up to 
the door of the dramatic text, with as little further interrup- 
tion as possible. In this, as I have already said, the objects 
of our inquiry only permit me to be brief. 

We have seen that Shakespeare, owing to his father's 
straitened circumstances, left school at the age of fourteen; 
but we are justified in the conclusion that he acquired a suffi- 
cient knowledge of the classics, during the last two or three 

on the demesne of himself or others, were as offensive to his predilections 
as to his principles. Shakespeare and his compeers were discovered, and 
fell under the rigid lash of Sir Thomas Lucy's authority and resentment. 
The knight attacked the poet with the penalties of the law, and the poet 
revenged himself hy sticking some satirical verses on the gate of the 
knight's park. The following are the first and last : 

Verses on Sir Thomas Lucy. 

"A parliement member, a justice of peace, 
At home a poore scarecrowe, in London an asse ; 
If Lucy is Lousie, as some volke misscall it, 
Synge Lousie Lucy whatever befall it. 

"If a iuvenile frolick he cannot forgive, 
We'll synge Lousie Lucy as long as we live ; 
And Lucy the Lousie a libel may call it, 
We'll synge Lousie Lucy whatever befall it." 



William Shakespeare. 27 

years of his studies, to qualify him for all the use which is ex- 
hibited of such learning in the plays, and this, from the fact 
(says Malone) " that other Stratford men, educated at the same 
school, were familiarly conversant with Latin, and even cor- 
responded in that language." 8 Upon this point Mr. Lofft as- 
serts, in his introduction to the " Aphorisms," that Shake- 
speare "had what would now be considered a very reasonable 
proportion of Latin ; he was not wholly ignorant of Greek ; 
he had a knowledge of French so as to read it with ease, and, 
I believe, not less of the Italian. If it had been true that he 
had no Greek, as some contend from Ben Jonson's famous 
line, that he had ' little Latin and less Greek,' it would have 
been as easy for the verse as for the sentiment to have said 
1 no Greek.' " 9 It is hard to defeat this reasoning ; 10 Aubrey 
and Dr. Drake agree with it, and Harness, in subscribing to 
it, remarks, " That Shakespeare should appear unlearned in 
the judgment of Jonson, who perhaps measured him by the 
scale of his own enormous erudition, is no imputation upon 
his classical attainments." I think it may be properly sug- 
gested at this point that nothing is more likely than that 
Shakespeare keenly pursued his studies after he left school ; 
and if, as there seems to be but little doubt, he went into an 
attorney's office, he had ample leisure for such application. 
The experience of every man who has ever had a taste for 
study will tell him how natural such a course would be ; nay, 
how strange it would have been if the eager mind of Shake- 
speare had not followed it. The extent of proficiency acquired 
by a mind like his, after such a good start as it had received, 
can not be gauged by ordinary examples. It is fair, therefore, 
to terminate the analysis of this first period of our poet's life 
with the conclusion that William Shakespeare, though not so 
great a scholar as Lord Bacon, possessed all the reading and 
classical accomplishment requisite to the production ot the 
plays ; and, though he never became a lawyer in any true sense 

8 Malone's " Shakespeare," Boswell's edition, vol. ii, p. 182. 

9 " Aphorisms from Shakespeare," pp. 12-14. 

10 This remark was published by Ben Jonson, when the character and 
acquisitions of Shakespeare were known to thousands. — Dr. Johnson's 
Preface. 



28 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

of that term, he had, in some lesser way, acquired all the 
"conveyancer's jargon" and phrases of attorneyship which 
are to be found sprinkled through his dramatic works. The 
period for this educational improvement, in the semi-solitude 
of a little country town like Stratford, ran in Shakespeare's 
case from fourteen till the age of say twenty-two, at about 
which latter date he went up to London. I may here be met 
by the remark, in objection to the probability of Shakespeare's 
studious habits, that he began by leading a wild, dissipated 
life, and married at the age of eighteen. But Shakespeare's 
drunken bouts, his matches at intoxication, and his infractions 
of the game-laws under the form of deer-stealing, may be re- 
garded rather as the vents and excesses of an intensely active 
nature, which could not be "cribb'd, cabin'd, and confined" 
of its natural instincts by the sleepy decorum of a place like 
Stratford. 

Yielding to these willful impulses in yet another way, he 
made his precocious and imprudent marriage. The object of 
his choice was Ann Hathaway, the daughter of a substantial 
yeoman of Shottery, a little village about three miles from 
Stratford. She was eight years older than Shakespeare, which 
circumstance doubtless had its effect in producing the long 
separations that took place between them in the form of ex- 
tended stays in London during his after-life. This marriage 
took place in December, 1582, and their first child subsequent 
to it was Susanna, born May 23, 1583, a period of little more 
than five months. Shakespeare showed his superior affection for 
this child, however, by leaving her the bulk of his property. 
It would seem, therefore, that he could not have doubted her 
paternity, whatever irregularity there was in his marriage and 
whatever scandals may have got into circulation on the sub- 
ject. It does not appear, indeed, that there ever was any 
positive disagreement between himself and wife; though it 
is worthy of observation that, in the first copy of his will, he 
made no mention of her name, and only inserted it afterward 
to the extent of leaving her "his second-best bed." He prob- 
ably was influenced to the slightness of this bequest by the 
fact that she was sufficiently provided for out of his real estate 
by the usual common-law right of dower. 



William Shakespeare. 29 

Nearly all of Shakespeare's biographers show a disposition 
to shield him and Ann Hathaway from the inferential re- 
proach of the premature debut of Susanna into this breathing 
world, by assuming that the period of betrothal in that age, in 
some portions of England, imparted all the liberties of wed- 
lock. Perhaps we have Shakespeare's own opinion on the 
subject in the following lines of Claudio's in "Much Ado 
about Nothing," where he replies to Leonato's reproaches for 
slandering the honor of his daughter Hero, whom Claudio 
stood engaged to marry : 

Glatjdio. I know what you would say; if /have known her, 
You'll say she did embrace me as a husband 
And so extenuate the " forehand sin." 

Much Ado, Act IV, Scene 1, 

And, again, in the Duke's advice to Mariana, in " Measure 
for Measure " : 

Duke (disguised as a priest). Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. 
He is your husband on a pre-contract ; 
To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin, 
Sith that the justice of your title to him 
Doth flourish the deceit. 

Measure for Measure, Act IV, Scene 1. 

On the subject of his wife's superior age, we find Shake- 
speare again testifying in " Twelfth Night " as follows : 

Duke. Let still the woman take 

An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 

Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene 4. 

And still again, in the same piece, to Yiola, who is dis- 
guised as a young man : 

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than thyself, 
Or thy affection can not hold the bent : 
For women are as roses, whose fair flower, 
Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour. 

Twelfth Night, Act IV, Scene 4. 

Further on in the same play, the poet puts his own case 
with still more distinctness. Olivia, the heroine of the piece, 



30 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

having indiscreetly admitted Sebastian to her chamber, seeks 
him with a clergyman to rectify the sin. 

Enter Olivia and a Priest. 

Olivia (to Sebastian). Blame not this haste of mine ; if yon mean well, 
Now go with me, and with this holy man, 
Into the chantry by ; there, before him, 
And underneath that consecrated roof, 
Plight me the full assurance of your faith ; 
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
May live at peace ; he shall conceal it, 
"Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, 
"What time we will our celebration keep, 
According to my birth. What do you say? 

Sebastian. I'll follow this good man, and go with you, 
And having sworn truth, ever will be true. 

Olivia. Then lead the way, good father ; and heavens so shine 

That they may fairly note this act of mine. 

Act IV, Scene 3. 

There are two further passages in the plays bearing upon. 
this subject of troth-plight and premature birth which may as 
well be noticed at this point. The first of these we find in 
" A Winter's Tale." 

Leontes. My wife's a hobby-horse ; deserves a name 
As rank as any flax-wench, that puts to 
Before her troth-plight. 

Act /, Scene 2. 

The other occurs in " King John," in the scene between 
the King, Robert Faulconbridge, and the Bastard. 

; Eobeet Faulconbeidoe (alluding to the Bastard). 

And this my mother's son was none of his ; 
And, if he were, he came into the world 
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. 

Act I, Scene 1. 

These fourteen weeks, which Sir Robert thus refers to, rep- 
resent just about about the precocity of Susanna Shakespeare, 
and it will be seen that the poet, in neither case, made the 
deficiency the subject of a reproach or penalty. Whether 
this frequent recurrence to an important incident in Shake- 



William Shakespeare. 31 

speare's life was most natural to Shakespeare or to Bacon, who 
had no such incident to prompt him, the reader can readily 
settle for himself. In this connection our attention becomes 
directed to the frequency with which the author of the plays 
indulges in a word which, though common enough in Shake- 
speare's time, I must be excused for quoting. I allude to the 
word cuckold. It is surprising to note the extent to which 
our poet revels in this term. It is profusely sprinkled through 
his comedies and his historical plays. His tragedies also 
plentifully bear the soil of the idea ; and, indeed, there are 
few of the plays which are free from this strange phantasy. 
The word, and even its equivalents, seems to operate upon him 
like a spell. Their merest mention provokes in his mind the 
most unbounded merriment. Like the introduction of a 
syringe to a French audience, the fancy never tires. Indeed, 
it appears to deprive our poet of all self-control, and he rolls 
before the reader, as it were, and holds his sides like one who 
is on the brink of a fit, from excess of the ludicrous. 11 The 
question which presents itself in connection with this observa- 
tion is, whether such a development of comic ecstasy would 
be more likely to Sir Francis Bacon, who was not married 
until he was forty-six, or to William Shakespeare, who, at the 
age of eighteen, married a matured woman, and was rewarded 
with a child in little more than five months afterward ? 

Within eighteen months after the birth of Susanna, Shake- 
speare's wife bore him twins, a son and a daughter, who were 
baptized by the names of Hamnet and Judith; "and thus, 
when little more than twenty, Shakespeare had already a wife 
and three children dependent on his exertions for support." 
He remained at home in Stratford until 1586, when, as we 
have already seen, he went to London to seek new fortunes 
in that larger sphere. Whether he had written anything be- 

11 In looking over the " Dramatic Miscellanies " of Thomas Davies, pub- 
lished in London in 1784, I find the following allusion to Cougreve's fre- 
quent use of the same word in his plays: "The audience in Congreve's 
time," says Davies, "were particularly fond of having a city cuckold 
dressed np for their entertainment, and Fondle-wife in Congreve's ' Old 
Bachelor ' is served up with very poignant sauce, for the several incidents 
in the scene are very diverting." — Davies's "Miscellanies," vol. iii, p. 316. 



32 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

yond sonnets previous to that time does not appear. It seems 
that he went at once to the neighborhood of the theatres, and 
it is reported that he began by holding gentlemen's horses at 
the doors. Having probably thus, or in some similar way, 
become acquainted with the management, he readily worked 
his way inside the temple of the drama, and was soon pro- 
moted to the position of call-boy, it is said, on the stage. 



Shakespeare s supposed Personality. 33 



CHAFTEE Y. 



Shakespeare's progress from this point appears to have 
been very rapid. He was soon permitted to play minor parts, 
and in three or four years acquired an interest in the manage- 
ment of the Globe, and also in the summer theatre, which was 
known as the playhouse at Blackfriars. At what precise time 
he began to write his plays is not definitely known, as they all 
found their way into print without any known effort on his 
part, and the dates of their production were consequently, to a 
large extent, confounded with the order of their publication ; 
but, taking Furnival's table for our guide, it may safely be 
concluded that he began to write them as early as 1588-89. 
It is a singular fact that he appeared to take no interest in the 
vast renown they were building up for him ; for it was not 
until seven years after his death that the first collection of 
them was printed in what has been universally known as 
" the folio of 1623." Of his poems and sonnets he seemed to 
be a great deal more considerate, having published most of 
them over his own name and supervision, and even dedicating 
the " Yenus and Adonis," and the " Rape of Lucrece," in 1593 
and 1594 respectively, as we have already said, to the young 
Earl of Southampton. In his dedication of the former poem 
to the Earl, he characterizes it as u the first heir of his inven- 
tion," but it is known that he wrote plays previous to its ap- 
pearance, so it is not improbable that the " Yenus " had been 
written much earlier, and bad perhaps been begun previous to 
his leaving Stratford. He followed the profession of an actor 
for upward of seventeen years, and the production of his 
3 



34 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

works, which began probably when he was twenty-three, 
covered a period of twenty-six years. During this period he 
produced thirty-seven plays. 

" The latter part of his life," says Eowe, " was spent in 
ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends," and he 
died on his birthday, April 23, 1616, at the age of 52, in the 
full maturity of his powers, leaving a large property behind 
him. The immediate cause of his death is reported by Ward, 
the vicar of Stratford, who wrote in 1662, to have been a 
merry meeting which he had with Drayton and Ben Jonson; 
at which, says the vicar, "it seems he drank too hard, for 
Shakespeare died of a fever there contracted." Knight is 
unwilling to give absolute confidence to this tradition, because 
the vicar wrote forty-six years after the event, " but," he re- 
marks, " if it were absolutely true, our reverence for Shake- 
speare would not be diminished by the fact that he accelerated 
his end in the exercise of hospitality, according to the manner 
of his age, toward two of the most illustrious of his friends." 
Knight's objection, that Ward wrote forty- six years after the 
event, has but little force when we learn that the good vicar's 
work in which the above fact is stated was his diary, published 
naturally at the close of his career. 

In person Shakespeare is generally supposed to have been 
of full size, comely and prepossessing, of agreeable manners, 
but not marked either by bearing or in features with that 
dignity of presence which we naturally associate with our 
ideas of his genius. His works, indeed, indicate that he was 
a good-natured, amiable, easy-going man, with more heart 
than conscience, of a convivial inclination, with full conver- 
sational powers, supported by a readiness of wit which made 
him a desirable companion for men of any amount of acquire- 
ment or rank. "Every contemporary who has spoken of 
him," says one writer, " has been lavish in the praise of his 
temper and disposition. 'The gentle Shakespeare' seems to 
have been his distinguishing appellation." "No slight por- 
tion of our enthusiasm for his writings," says another, " may 
be traced to the fair picture which they present of our 
author's character ; we love the tenderness of heart, the can- 
dor and openness and singleness of mind, the largeness of 



Shakespeare's supposed Personality. 35 

sentiment, the liberality of opinion, which the whole tenor of 
his works prove him to have possessed; his faults seem to 
have been the transient aberrations of a thoughtless moment, 
which reflection never failed to correct." All this, however, 
is but the fruit of surmise and of inference, for, after the most 
diligent investigation as to what manner of man he was, either 
in demeanor or personal looks, we feel bound in the com- 
monest candor to confess that we can not point to a particle 
of actual testimony which will indicate his temper, or show 
with certainty whether he was black or white, short or tall. 
The general inclination evinced of late by his biographers, 
most of whom approach him only in awe and almost upon 
their knees, is to disbelieve the broadest of these anecdotes, 
as if it were discreditable to his intellect for him to have been 
so much a man as they would indicate. But the character of 
Bacon has already revealed to us that morals are not indis- 
pensable to intellectual force, and that the divine afflatus of 
the poet may find its way to the most sublime developments 
through the muddiest of filters. I am not indisposed, there- 
fore, to accept some of the stories about Shakespeare's con- 
viviality and gallantry, and think them less to his discredit, 
even when they stretch to the extremity of deer-stealing, 
than were the low contrivances by which Bacon sought and 
retained office, or the sale of his judicial opinions from the 
bench. 

One of these stories about Shakespeare is recorded by 
Oldys in his MSS. It says that it was the habit of our poet, 
in his trips between Stratford and London, to bait his horses 
at the " Crown Inn," in Oxford, which was kept by Mr. John 
Davenant, " a grave, melancholy man," never known to laugh, 
who was subsequently Mayor of Oxford, and whose son Wil- 
liam became afterward a poet under the title of Sir William 
Davenant. But Mrs. Davenant, the hostess, was by no means 
a grave and melancholy woman. On the contrary, tradition 
says she was " very gay," and withal quite pretty. During 
the several years through which these London trips and Ox- 
ford stoppages continued, scandal was very free about the 
terms existing between the buxom hostess and the London 
' One day,' and we have this story on the author- 



36 Shakespeare, front an American Point of View. 

ity of Pope, the poet, ' an old townsman, observing the boy 
running homeward, almost out of breath, asked him whither 
he was posting in that heat and hurry. He answered, to see 
his god-t'&ther Shakespeare. " There's a good boy," said the 
other, " but have a care that you don't take God's name in 
vain.'" This story Pope told at the Earl of Oxford's table, 
upon the occasion of some discourse which arose about 
Shakespeare's monument, then newly erected in Westmin- 
ster Abbey; and he quoted Mr. Betterton, the player, for his 
authority." ' The tale is also mentioned by Anthony Wood; 
and certain it is that the traditionary scandal of Oxford has 
always spoken of Shakespeare as the father of Davenant;* 
"but it imputes a crime to our author," says a reverend com- 
mentator, " of which we may, without much stretch of charity, 
acquit him. It originated in the wicked vanity of Davenant 
himself, who, disdaining his honest but mean descent from the 
vintner, had the shameless impiety to deny his father and 
reproach the memory of his mother by claiming consanguin- 
ity with Shakespeare." My comment is that, though this 
gossip may be true, yet it is entitled to no more credence 
than is due to any mere dinner-table story. I do not discard 
it because of its moral sneer, but I see no reason to believe it, 
so long as no writer can be found who can give the lineaments 
of our poet's person. 

Before leaving the sketch of Shakespeare at this point, I de- 
sire to call attention to the fact, as bearing upon the question 
of the claims set up for Bacon, that his contemporary, Ben 
Jonson, wrote a laudatory sketch of Shakespeare in his intro- 
duction to the plays, and gave the highest stamp of his appro- 
bation to the Bard of Avon's genius by the famous, but gen- 
erally misquoted line, 

" He was not of an age, but for all time." 

This naturally brings us to the disposal of a common error, 
on which the Baconians place very great reliance. I allude 
to the popular tradition that Shakespeare thought with such 



1 Eeed's " Shakespeare," vol. i, pp. 124, 125. 

2 Eeed, note ix, pp. 126, 127. 



Shakespeare's supposed Personality. 3 7 

facility that he never blotted out a line. Ben Jonson, in his 
" Discoveries," deals with this preposterous statement as fol- 
lows : " I remember the players have often mentioned it, as an 
honor to Shakespeare, that in writing (whatsoever he penned) 
he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, ' Would 
he had blotted out a thousand ! ' which they thought a malev- 
olent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their igno- 
rance who chose that circumstance to commend their friend 
by, wherein he most faulted." 

I have said that this report of the players is perfectly pre- 
posterous, because nothing is better known, to those who are at 
all familiar with theatrical affairs, than that actors rarely or 
ever see an author's manuscript, the necessities of distribution 
of the text and of study among the various members of a dra- 
matic company requiring always the assistance of the copy- 
ist's art. But, to set this fable at rest, I request attention to 
the following specimens of Shakespeare's handwriting in the 
form of signatures on the pages of his will. 







Q$£Mffa?\ 



These, and two other signatures, one in a book and the 
other to a mortgage deed, are the only five specimens of Shake- 



38 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

speare's " liand " extant, 3 and the bare sight of all of them is suf- 
ficient to refute the idea that they represent facility in writing ; 
or, that when his penmanship had reached this cramped condi- 
tion, it could have been made serviceable in the way of copy- 
ing. And it must not be supposed that the above signatures 
were appended to Shakespeare's will during the feebleness 
of his last moments, for the document to which they are 
attached bears date 22d March, 1616 ; whereas he did not 
die until the 23d of the next month — and then rather unex- 
pectedly, as we have seen. Besides, the two other signatures 
are similar. 

There is still another proof against the copying theory that 
logically connects itself with this portion of the case. Among 
the ear-marks which indicate the plays to be the production 
of one who had been a professional player, are the constantly 
recurring evidences in the body of the text of what is known 
among actors as " stage business." Striking specimens of this 
professional mystery are to be found in Hamlet's directions to 
the players, and in Peter Quince's distribution of the copied 
parts and " properties " to Bottom and his mates, in " Mid- 
summer Night's Dream." But these proofs of the playwright's 
art abound throughout the Shakespeare plays to such a degree 
that it has been said by actors that the very language and dis- 
position of the scenes in the Shakespeare pieces make " stage 
business " of themselves. This kind of expertry could hardly 
have been acquired by Bacon ; nor yet could a copyist of less 
intellectual capacity than the author have written such mat- 
ter" in "and made it fit. In fact, this u stage business "in 
Shakespeare is so blended with and fashioned to the text that 
it could not have been inserted after writing without ruining 
the structure ; nor could it have been removed therefrom with- 
out bleeding out a portion of its life. 

Notwithstanding such proofs of our poet's stage experi- 
ence as the above, nothing is more common than for the blind 
devotees of Shakespeare to attribute his special acquirements 
to poetic insight — or intuitiveness springing solely from his 



3 The utter extinction of all the Shakespeare manuscripts is attributed 
to the great fire of London, and two fires which occurred in Stratford. 



Shakespeare's supposed Personality. 39 

wondrous genius. They will not have him ignorant of any- 
thing, or deficient in anything. The mistakes or oversights 
which were natural to haste, they excuse with assumptions 
of profundity ; and even his most objectionable sentiments 
or inexcusable expressions, which the improved taste of our 
age has repeatedly condemned, they pardon through pretense 
of a dramatic necessity, required by the customs of his char- 
acters. 

One of the familiar proofs offered of the marvelous intui- 
tiveness of the Bard of Avon is, the accuracy and force with 
which he handles the peculiar language of the mariner's art, 
and especially the facility and truth with which he describes 
the behavior of a vessel in a gale. 

" The very management of the ship in the c Tempest,' " 
says one of these learned commentators, " may have been the 
fruit either of casual observation or of what men of letters call 
* cram,' rapidly assimilated by his genius." And again, this 
same writer, in expressing his sense of the power of the poet's 
intuitive comprehension, directs our attention to that fine de- 
scription in Henry the Eighth of " the outburst of admiration 
and loyalty of the multitude at sight of Anne Bullen, as if he 
(Shakespeare) had spent his life on shipboard " ; 

" Such a noise arose 
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest ; 
As loud, and to as many tunes." 

" And yet," concludes the writer, " of all negative facts in re- 
gard to his (Shakespeare's) life, none, perhaps, is su?*er than 
that he never was at seaP * Why, who does not know that 
Shakespeare was an Englishman, and as such may be almost 
said to have been born at sea ? The shores of England lie 
mostly among roaring waves, and a poet can often find before 
his eyes as much turbulent, spiteful, and dangerous water by 
looking from the cliff at Dover, or the shore at Plymouth, as 
he would meet with in traversing a thousand miles at sea. A 
man who ventures in a fishing-boat a mile from shore on any 
portion of the English or Irish coast is often as wide at sea as if 

4 Richard Grant White's " Shakespeare," p. 259. 



40 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

swinging round Cape Horn. His Earl of Salisbury, who prob- 
ably had never been more at sea than Shakespeare, and who, 
like all Englishmen who had traveled on the Continent only, 
doubtless got all his knowledge of the ocean from the twenty- 
one mile trip between Dover and Calais, in the English Chan- 
nel, is made to say, in " King John " : 

" And like a shifted wind unto a sail, 
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ; 
Startles and frights consideration." 

But this proves no more than that Shakespeare had at some 
time been out on a fishing or boating excursion, or had looked 
upon the chafing ocean from the land. 

Mr. White, pursuing the same subject of Shakespeare's 
wonderful intuitiveness, says : " We may be very sure that he 
made no special study of natural phenomena ; and, indeed, 
no condition of his life seems surer than that it afforded him 
neither time nor opportunity for such studies. Yet, in the 
following lines from the sixty-fourth Sonnet, an important 
geological fact serves him for illustration : 

" ' When I have seen the hungry ocean gain 
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, 
And the firm soil win of the watery main, 
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store. . . . ' 

" "Where, and how, and why had Shakespeare," exclaims 
Mr. White, " observed a great operation of nature like this, 
which takes many years to effect changes which are percep- 
tible?" The answer suggests itself: Why, what New York 
boy, who has enjoyed holiday afternoons in visits to the beach 
at Coney Island, or what Londoner who has made similar 
trips to portions of the English coast, has not seen the shore, 
one season overreached in portions and devoured by the 
flood, receive restitution the next season on some adjacent 
spot by the ocean heaving the plunder back? And pray 
where did Mr. White get his knowledge of this phenomenon 
from? Did he get it from his books? Again Mr. White, 
while defending Shakespeare with much warmth from what 
he terms "the reproach of Papistry," states that the Bard 



Shakespeare's supposed Personality. 41 

nowhere shows a leaning toward any form of church govern- 
ment or toward any theological tenet or dogma. And this, 
notwithstanding the poet's frequent allusions to holy friars, to 
shrift, to purging fires and confession, is about as reasonable 
as to declare him a chaste and moral writer, in the face of the 
foul-tongued characters of Parolles, Falstaff, and Doll Tear- 
sheet. 



42 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER VI. 



The intention with which I concluded the last chapter, of 
devoting no space to an attempt to fix the personal appearance 
of a man of whom no description, by an eye-witness, was ever 
known to have been given, I find must be abandoned ; and 
the overmastering curiosity still existing on this subject, as 
shown by my reception of several letters since the publication 
of Chapter Y, has convinced me I must take the risk of some 
difference of opinion on this point with previous writers. 

To return, therefore, to this consideration — Shakespeare, 
as he presents himself to the general mind, after passing 
from the hands of his biographers, was a man of regular 
features, with a steady and benign expression, rendered al- 
most majestic by a towering intellectual development of the 
forehead. I slept tranquilly under this beautiful vision for 
many years, but now, being seriously challenged, I feel 
bound to repeat that, after the most diligent search through 
every source of reliable information within my reach, I have 
failed to find the direct testimony of a single person of the 
poet's time, or the report of any writer or chronicler of his 
period, either by word of mouth or otherwise, who ever ven- 
tured to state, of his own knowledge, whether he was tall or 
short, fair or dark, slim or stout, straight or bent. It is true, 
we are told on the reported authority of one of Shakespeare's 
brothers, when at a very old age, that Tie once saw our poet 
play the part of an exceedingly feeble old man (probably 
Adam, in " As You Like It "), and it must be conceded as 
pretty well established that he performed at his own theatre a 



Shakespeare s Personal Appearance continued. 43 

narrow range of parts, requiring but little action, among 
which was the character of the Ghost, in " Hamlet." But none 
of these accounts describe Shakespeare's person, and it is sup- 
posed, from the fact of his confining himself to a class of rep- 
resentations which required little or no action, that he had 
some physical defects, and possibly was lame. Harness sug- 
gests this idea, and refers to the poet's own Sonnets to support 
the supposition. It is somewhat singular, moreover, that, in 
addition to this silence of the authorities as to his person, 
Shakespeare, except in his Sonnets, all of which may be said 
to be more or less mystical and cloaked, never describes him- 
self; and, what is more strange and unlike the habit of most 
writers, he generally avoids describing his dramatic characters, 
as if not wishing to set an example which might react unpleas- 
antly against himself. Are we to suppose from these peculiar 
indications that he was ill-favored, and that his sensitiveness 
was consequently recognized and humored by his contempo- 
raries ? Or that he was shy because of his defects, and really 
little seen of men ? I press none of these views ; but, having 
the warrant of his own words for the last conjecture, I may di- 
rect attention to the thirty -seventh Sonnet, where he writes : 

" So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite — ." 

Next to the complaining eighty-seventh Sonnet : 

"And so my patient back again is swerving." 

And once more to the eighty-ninth Sonnet, in which he again 
refers to his infirmity by the line : 

" Speak of my lameness, and I strait will halt/' 

We might almost surmise, from these sorrowful lines, that 
the bard was not only lame, but much of a recluse, and thus 
discouraged the familiarity which might have resulted in por- 
traits, company, and current anecdotes. The stories in rela- 
tion to him, it will be observed, were mostly — if not entirely 
— the growth of generations subsequent to his, while no pic- 
ture of him appears to have been taken, as of others of his 
contemporaries, while he lived. The first, indeed the only, 
picture to which we can give the least degree of credit, is the 



44 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

portrait by Dreyshout, which illustrated the first collected 
edition of his works, and which appeared in 1623, seven years 
after Shakespeare's death ; and the probability is that this 
was worked up from the bust at the tomb, made by Gerard 
Johnson, which, according to Leonard Digges, was erected at 
Stratford soon after the poet's death. 1 The bust in the 
Stratford church, therefore, cut by " Gerard Johnson, tomb- 
maker," as he was styled, and erected under the authority of 
Shakespeare's widow and daughters, and Dr. John Hall, the 
husband of Susanna, the eldest, is the only authentic source 
of any facial trace of " the dear dust of England's myriad- 
minded son." I say facial trace, for the likeness, being a 
bust, does not give an accurate idea of the poet's height or 
size; and, as a bust, it is all reserve as to his lower form. It 
is set, moreover, in an entablature against the wall of the 
chancel, some eight or nine feet above the floor, so that, to the 
observer, who must look upward, the shoulders are adroitly 
marked in shade. In this, perhaps, the old tomb-maker 
thoughtfully showed his art ; or perhaps wisely followed the 
suggestions of the sensitive and mourning relatives, who acted 
under their rights of love and pride. " The eyes of this bust," 
says Samuel Neil, whose careful descriptions of the sacred 
memorials of Stratford form the local guide-book of the place, 
u have a vague stare, while the arch of the brows and the 
character of the eyelids do not come properly into view (from 
the height at which they are seen) to harmonize the features. 
Hence the fullness of the chin and throat, the slight fall in the 
cheek, and the little bit of teeth showing — as if the poet were 
in the act of smiling — come into too much prominence and 
subtract from the apparent dignity, gravity, or, rather, suavity 
of the portrait, and, at first sight, rather disappoint spectators. 
Still, no one can mistake the strong purpose-like solidity of 
that mass of brains, or fail to regard it as the head of a shrewd, 
kindly, wise, and business-minded individual." 

Mr. F. W. Fairholt, F. S. A., who has illustrated this book 
on the home of Shakespeare, says : " That an intent study of 
this bust enforces the belief that all the manifold peculiarities 

1 Knight's " Shakespeare," Appletons' New York edition, vol. i, p. 65. 



Shakespeare^ s Personal Appearance continued. 45 

of feature so characteristic of the poet, and which no chance 
could have originated and no theory account for, must have 
resulted from its being a transcript of the man." 

It was after reading these impressions I visited the poet's 
tomb. But I could not share them, nor, though I stood before 
all that was entitled to represent the bard, was I convinced 
that the similitude could be worthy such a man as Shake- 
speare. The features are heavy, stolid, and almost vacant. The 
visage is unusually long — the lower face particularly so — 
while the forehead, apparently ambitious to outdo even the 
writer's reputation, is, of itself, about as high above the brows 
as all of the face, with its most extensive chin, is below it. 
Altogether, the likeness is more suggestive of an imaginative 
man of business — a popular glover, perhaps even a misty 
clergyman or a well-to-do shopkeeper, accustomed to being 
looked up to by his neighbors — than of a man who carried in 
his dome of thought the intellectual premiership of the world. 
It was doubtless molded for Shakespeare, shortly after his 
death, in the center of his home, with all the aid of memory 
and friendship to assist the artist ; nevertheless, I am disposed 
to think that the old tomb-maker who had the work in hand 
was overruled by relatives, and that devout believers in high 
foreheads made him build too much on top. The real features 
of William Shakespeare, whether comely or plain, or even 
what the world might call ill-favored, would, despite any de- 
fect of line, have sat august, in an all-pervading dignity that 
would have dominated any mere strength of feature, and de- 
fied the clay of this poor bust. I have no doubt, however, 
that the painter Dreyshout, when, five or six years after Shake- 
speare's death, he received his order to paint a portrait to illus- 
trate the first collected edition of the poet's works (in 1623), 
was reduced to the necessity of going down to Stratford, to 
consult the only likeness then extant. He could have had no 
other resource to help him but his own memory and the active 
judgment of the poet's London friends. For these reasons, 
and because of the superior judgment of these men of the 
world over that of the simple worshipers at Stratford, I 
think we must regard the Dreyshout picture as the most au- 
thentic and reliable likeness of the two. There are now in- 



46 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

numerable portraits of Shakespeare in the world, all claiming 
to be more or less honestly derived, but all of them which are 
not traceable to Stratford are the offspring of the caprice of 
artists, or of the curiosity of the generations which seem never 
to be tired in studying the sands upon the poet's track. Be- 
sides the great number of these portraits which are to be found 
at the birthplace of the poet, I have seen a private collection 
in London (the propert} 7 of Mr. James McHenry, an Ameri- 
can), boasting of twelve hundred different specimens of the 
Shakespearean likeness. Some of these are bound with a 
richness which can hardly be excelled, but the variation in 
many of them is extremely slight, and most of them give 
traces of the common birth-mark. 

It was this collection of McHenry' s which confirmed the 
idea I had for a long time entertained of visiting Stratford-on- 
Avon, with the view of settling the doubts raised by the 
Sonnets as to Shakespeare's being lame, or having a deformity 
in the back, and more especially as to a conviction which had 
grown upon me that he was a red-haired man. I had acquired 
this idea from the fact that the bust of the poet had been painted 
in colors when first erected — the hair being tinted auburn — 
and, though. subsequently painted out with white, the original 
color (auburn) had been afterward restored, and now appears 
precisely as at first. This sanguine color had evidently pre- 
vailed in the mind of the painter of one of the portraits of the 
McHenry collection, the hair of which was an exceedingly 
lively red. The portrait I allude to was inscribed as having 
been " originally in the possession of Prince Rupert, but now 
in the gallery of his Grace the Duke of Hamilton." And I 
may take this opportunity to say that his Grace himself has 
hair of such a pronounced and positive red that it doubtless 
receives warrant for its tint through a long line of ancestry, 
stretching, perhaps, to Prince Rupert, or it may be (from the 
richness of his Grace's ancestral line) even to King William 
Rums. 

On this matter of the color of the poet's hair, I found my 
visit to Stratford-on-Avon sufficiently rewarded. Making my 
way first to the church, I soou stood before the ever-memor- 
able grave and monument. The figure of the bard sits against 



Shakespeare 's Personal Appearance continued, 47 

the wall, in the shade of a blank window; but, notwithstand- 
ing its position, its distance from the floor, and the somber 
light of the chancel, I could clearly distinguish that the color 
given to the hair was auburn, or what is more commonly known 
as red. But no hint was given by the fair, round shoulders — 
which sat from the wall sufficiently to be free from suspicion 
of deformity — of any stoop. So, if nature or accident was 
responsible for any blemish of that kind, the gentle sculptor 
had been true to his vocation or to the directions under which 
he worked. 

I think, however, there can be but little, if any, doubt, from 
the evidences I have referred to, that William Shakespeare 
was a red-haired man, nor hardly any, from the other colors 
of the bust, that in complexion he was very fair ; and, I may 
add, was probably much freckled. It may be regarded as cer- 
tain, therefore, that the figure which was erected shortly after 
the poet's death was fashioned under the direction of his wife 
and daughters ; and as they had to approve of it, and, being 
rich, were probably required to pay for it, it is not to be sup- 
posed that it was in the slightest degree erroneously colored. 
Neil's authorized description of this bust, printed in the 
universally received local guide-book of Stratford-on-Avon, 
says: 

" The bust — which displays a fine, full round face — the 
forehead towering, the eyes large-orbed, the lips expressive, 
the nose full but not too prominent, the chin set, and the whole 
head well-poised and massive — is now, as it was originally, 
painted from nature. The eyes are light hazel; the hair and 
heard auburn. The shoulders are free from stoop, the chest 
is broad and capacious, the right hand formerly held a pen as 
if the original had been employed in composition at the 
moment when the artist had fixed his lineaments. The dress 
is a scarlet doublet slashed on the breast, over which is a loose 
black gown without sleeves." 

It may be thought, by some, that too much consequence 
was paid to these particulars, concerning a man whose sole 
distinction is his mind; but quite as much as this is sure to 
be of interest in relation to a genius whose fame has filled the 
world, and who certainly, with all that has been said of him, 



48 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

was never described by any one who ever saw him. From this 
strange fact proceeds the almost still stranger fact, that a class 
of literary speculatists have been emboldened to question 
whether the real genius, before whom the world delights to 
bow in adoration, was William Shakespeare or Lord Bacon. 
Nevertheless, except by the bust, upon whose insufficient linea- 
ments we have bestowed so much of our attention, we may 
safely declare that Shakespeare's person still stands unde- 
scribed. 

It was to have been supposed that the intimacy which ex- 
isted between him and Ben Jon son would have resulted in 
some personal account of the mighty dramatist from the author 
of " Sejanus," whom, it is said, he so frequently befriended; 
but, strange to say, that even when death had released the 
lyric god from all responsibilities to worldly answer, and when 
the remaining friend had been invested with all the elegiac 
liberties due in favor of the dead, that friend did not intrust 
himself with a freedom much beyond the parables. Indeed,, 
the most he seemed to be willing to trust to the doubtful popu- 
larity of his subject was, the somewhat questionable declaration 
that his vices were redeemed by his virtues, and that he was 
{indeed) honest? 

That I may not be misunderstood and misrepresented, I 
will give the exact words of the eulogist as they came from 
him : " I loved the man," said Jonson, " and do honor his 
memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was (in- 
deed) honest, and of an open and free nature, had an excellent 
fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed 
with that felicity that, sometimes, it was necessary he should 
be stopped. His wit was in his own power ; would the rule of 
it had been so too ! Many times he fell into those things which 

could not escape laughter But he redeemed his vices 

with his virtues ; there was ever more in him to be praised 
than pardoned." 

This, after all, is but meager praise for a man who left 
behind him so large a space of grandeur to be filled, and to 
whose memory such great and gracious words were due, It 

2 Ben Jonson's "Discoveries." 



Shakespeare's Personal Appearance continued, 49 

certainly does not do much toward filling out, in an adequate 
manner, that mighty portrait we are in search of, but turns us 
back to the narrow limits of the old tomb-maker's bust, un- 
satisfied. In brief, to repeat the memorable words of one of 
his voluminous biographers : "All that is known with any cer- 
tainty concerning Shakespeare is, that he was born at Strat- 
ford-on-Avou, married and had children there, went to London, 
where he commenced actor and wrote poems and plays, re- 
turned to Stratford, made his will, died and was buried ! " 
4 



50 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE RELIGION OF THE SHAKESPEARE FAMILY. 

We have now brought our observations down to a point, 
as between Bacon and Shakespeare, where it becomes in order 
to follow our inquiry into the religious belief of William 
Shakespeare; and if it shall appear, after tracing all the 
probabilities of circumstantial proof, that the unvarying sen- 
timent and verbal testimony of the Shakespeare plays indicate 
the writer to have been of the religion of the Church of 
Rome ; that they show him to be entirely familiar with its 
dogmas, tenets, practices, and formula; that he rarely, if 
ever, alludes to a priest without apparently folding his arms 
across his breast and reverently bowing his head ; and, beyond 
all, that he never alludes to a Protestant preacher, or a 
Puritan, as he prefers to call him, without derision and con- 
tempt; I think it may be safely concluded that the plays 
ascribed to William Shakespeare could not possibly have been 
the work of a confirmed and bitter Protestant like Sir Francis 
Bacon. 

The ancestors of William Shakespeare, on both sides, 
seem to have been persons of some note. It is claimed by 
several writers that the name of Chacksper, or Shackspeare, 
or Shakespeare, "a martial name, however spelt," says 
Knight, figured among squires at arms as early as the battle 
of Hastings, won by the " Conqueror " in 1066. The battle of 
Bosworth Field, however, in which the Earl of Richmond 
(afterward Henry VII) overthrew Richard III (1485), makes 
the first definite historical presentation of both the paternal 
and maternal lines of the Shakespeare family. The grant of 



The Religion of the Shakespeare Family. 5 1 

a coat of arms in 1599 to Shakespeare's own father recites of 
"John Shakespeare, now of Stratford-on-Avon," that his 
" antecessor, for his faithful and approved service to the late 
most prudent prince, King Henry VII, of famous memory, 
was advanced, and rewarded with lands and tenements, given 
to him in those parts of Warwickshire where they have con- 
tinued by some descents in good reputation and credit." 

The mother of Shakespeare was Mary Arden, the young- 
est of the seven daughters of Robert Arden, one of whose 
ancestors had rendered some public service (probably at Bos- 
worth Field) for which he was rewarded with the position of 
Groom of the Chamber to Henry VII. " He seems," says 
Malone, " to have been a favorite ; for he had a valuable 
lease granted to him by the king, of the manor of Yoxsall, in 
Staffordshire, and was also made keeper of the royal park of 
Aldcar." " Mary Arden ! " exclaims Knight, in a sort of 
rhapsody; u the name breathes of poetry. It seems the 
personification of some Dryad, called by that generic name 
of Arden — a forest with many towers. High as was her 
descent, wealthy and powerful as were the numerous branches 
of her family, Mary Arden, we doubt not, led a life of use- 
fulness as well as innocence within her native forest hamlet." 
Her father died in December, 1556, and his will, which bears 
date 24th November of that year, indicates his religious faith 
by opening as follows : 

"First, I bequeath my soul to Almighty God, and to our 
blessed Lady St. Mary, and to all the holy company of 
heaven." Mary had the best position in her father's will, 
and was made one of its executors, along with her sister 
Alice. Knight, who will not have Shakespeare to have been 
a Catholic on any showing, does not think " that the wording 
of this will is any proof of Robert Arden's religious opin- 
ions " ; but Halliwell, who is equally as stiff as Knight in his 
Protestantism, says that the testator "was undoubtedly a 
Catholic, as appears by his allusion to our blessed Lady Saint 
Mary in his will." z And the faith of the father thus solemnly 
expressed, and made the vehicle of his last fond paternal 
trust, doubtless remained precious to the daughter. 

1 Halliwell's " Shakespeare," p. 15. 



52 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Of the religious faith of John Shakespeare, the father of 
our poet, who married Mary Arden, Halliwell and the ma- 
jority of the biographers express the opinion, or leave it to be 
inferred, that he was of the reformed religion, and con- 
sequently Protestant. They support this view with the fact 
that John Shakespeare had held municipal offices in Strat- 
ford which required him to swear adhesion to Protestantism, 
and to acknowledge the Queen of England, instead of the 
Pope, as the head of the Church. This is a plausible pres- 
entation, certainly ; but, when we reflect upon the bitter 
religious strifes of that transition period between the Latin 
and the Reformed Church, and observe to what extent the 
clergy excused political artifice for posts of power, the argu- 
ment loses a great portion of its force. The domestic history 
of every civil war will show numerous instances of mal- 
contents and Nonconformists getting into office by deceptive 
protestations. The period of the Cavaliers and the Round- 
heads was full of such cases, and, to be more familiar, I may 
refer to the fact that, during the late contest in the United 
States between the North and South, there were swarms of 
Confederates snugly nooked in the Union Custom-houses; 
while, on the other hand, many a Northern adherent was 
supporting rebellion in the South with the view of profiting 
by his perfidy in some other way ; all readily swallowing the 
iron- clad oaths of either section, without the palliating pres- 
sure of either conscience or religion. 

But a more direct proof of John Shakespeare's religious 
faith was the report against him of a Protestant Commission,, 
headed by Sir Thomas Lucy, which had been appointed by 
the Government to inquire into the conformity of the people 
of Warwickshire to the established religion, " with a special 
eye to Jesuits, priests, and recusants, for not coming monthlie 
to the churche, according to hir Majestie's lawes." This re- 
port against the poet's father, already mentioned, may account 
for the subsequent trespass by Shakespeare upon Sir Thomas 
Lucy's park, and also for the bitter pasquinade which the 
poetic youngster launched against Sir Thomas for his prose- 
cution of that trespass. 

The most direct and absolute proof, however, that John 



The Religion of the Shakespeare Family, 53 

Shakespeare was of the Roman Catholic religion may be seen 
in his formal " Confession of Faith," which was found one 
hundred and fifty-four years after his death, and the discovery 
of which is described by Dr. Drake as follows : 3 

"About the year 1770 a master bricklayer of the name of 
Mosely, being employed by Mr. Thomas Hart, the fifth in de- 
scent in a direct line from the poet's sister, Joan Hart, to new 
tile a house, in which he (Hart) then lived, and which is sup- 
posed to be the very house under whose roof the bard was 
born, found hidden between the rafters and the tiling a man- 
uscript, consisting of six leaves stitched together, in the form 
of a small book. This manuscript Mosely, who bore the 
character of an honest and industrious man, gave (without 
asking or receiving any recompense) to Mr. Peyton, an alder- 
man of Stratford, and this gentleman very kindly sent it to 
Mr. Malone, through the medium of the Rev. Mr. Davenport, 
Vicar of Stratford." 3 

Chalmers, in his " Apology for the Believers in the Shake- 
speare Papers," remarks upon this document that, "From the 
sentiments and the language, this confession appears to be the 
effusion of a Roman Catholic mind, and was probably drawn 
up by some Roman Catholic priest. If these premises be 
granted, it will follow, as a fair deduction, that the family of 
Shakespeare were Roman Catholics. . . . The thoughts, the 
language, the orthography, all demonstrate the truth of my 
conjecture, though Mr. Malone did not perceive this truth 
when he first published this paper in 1790. But it was the 
performance of a clerk — the undoubted work of the family 
priest. The conjecture that Shakespeare's family were Roman 
Catholics is strengthened by the fact that his father declined 
to attend the corporation meetings, and was at last removed 
from the corporate body. . . . 

" But," continues Chalmers, " this reasoning is confirmed 
by the consideration that the reign of Elizabeth was a period 
of apparent piety, and the reign of James I. an age of religious 

3 For extracts from this " Confession of Faith," and remarks thereon 
by Drake, see the conclusion of this chapter. 
• Drake, p. 9 ; Reed, vol. iii, pp. 197, 198. 



54 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

speculation. To own particular modes of faith became ex- 
tremely fashionable during both those periods. It was prob- 
ably by this fashion that Lord Bacon, the prince of philoso- 
phers, was induced to draw up his " Confession of Faith," in 
order to please a monarch who interested himself in religious 
theories. . . . 4 

" Every logician would infer," still continues Chalmers, 
" that if it (John Shakespeare's ' Catholic Confession of Faith ') 
had been the custom of the family, which was followed by the 
father, it is extremely probable the same custom would be 
also followed by William, the son, who at times can not con- 
ceal his faith, even in his dramas." 

It appears, by the allusion which Chalmers makes above 
to Lord Bacon's " Confession of Faith," that such religious- 
documents were common in that age to men of all persuasions. 
Nevertheless, they appear to have had a sort of solemn secrecy 
attached to them, and, from what we gather from Dr. Drake's 
remark in a subjoined note, it is not unlikely that Shakespeare's 
" Confession of Faith," if he made one, was quietly buried 
with him. Perhaps this particular fact was reliably known 
(through the Fulman papers) to the Rev. Richard Davies, who f 
writing after 1688, flatly says that "Shakespeare died a 
Papist." 6 

4 Chalmers's "Apology," sect, v, pp. 198-200. 

5 " The Rev. William Fulman, who died in 1688, bequeathed his bio- 
graphical collections to his friend, the Rev. Richard Davies, rector of Sap- 
perton, in Gloucestershire, who made several additions to them. Davies 
died in 1708, and these manuscripts were presented to the library of Cor- 
pus Christi College, Oxford, where they are still preserved. Under the 
article ' Shakespeare,' Fulman made very few notes, and those of little 
importance ; but Davies inserted the curious information so important in 
the consideration of the deer-stealing story. The following is a complete 
copy of what the MS. contains respecting Shakespeare, distinguishing the 
addition made by Davies by brackets : 

'"William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in Warwick- 
shire, about 1563 or '64. [Much given to all unluckiness in stealing venison 

and rabbits, particularly from Sir Lucy, who had him oft whipt and 

sometimes imprisoned, and at last made him fly his native country, to his 
great advancement ; but his revenge was so great that he is his Justice 
Clodpate, and calls him a great man, and that, in allusion to his name, 
bore three louses rampant for his arms.] From an actor of plays he be- 



The Religion of the Shakespeare Family. 55 

What a thought is here ! The stone of the sepulchre of 
Shakespeare moves back before it, and the riddle of the awful 
epitaph which has protected the bones of the poet from the 
profane curiosity of the world, for nearly three centuries, 
seems to unfold itself for judgment. 

Following the example of his father, John Shakespeare, 
who to protect his children from sectarian persecutions se- 
creted his " Confession of Faith " amid the tiles of his roof, 
the son, William, with a still nearer forecast of the approach- 
ing storm of Puritanism, may have ordered that his " Confes- 
sion of Faith " be buried with his body. The rage of Protes- 
tant bigotry, which set in with Cromwell, and served to retard 
our poet's fame for nearly a hundred years, thus passed harmless 
over his head. Some day may yet reveal his " Confession of 
Faith " among the ashes of his bosom. In such disclosure, 
we will probably recognize the wisdom of the warning lines : 

" Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear, 
To dig the dust enclosed here ; 
Bless'd be the man that spares these stones, 
And curs'd be he who moves my bones." 

" But are not the official situations held by Shakespeare's 
father in the borough conclusive against the opinion which 
Mr. Chalmers has grounded upon it ? " indignantly exclaims a 
reverend biographer. Knight, in the same tone, says of the 
" Oath of Supremacy," which Shakespeare's father must have 
taken in order to hold office, that " to refuse this oath was 
made punishable with forfeiture and imprisonment, with the 
pains of praemunire and high treason." To such objections I 
think I have already opposed cogent reasons why the aspiring 
John Shakespeare should not have refused to take the oath, 



came a composer. He died April 23, 1616, setat. 53, probably at Stratford, 
for there he is bnryed, and hath a monument (Dugd., p. 520) on which he 
lays a heavy curse upon any one who shall remove his bones. He dyed a 
Papist.' 

"This testimony has been doubted, because no such character as Clod- 
pate occurs in any of Shakespeare's plays ; but it was a generic term of 
the time for a foolish person, and that Davies so used it there can, I 
think, be little doubt."— Halli well, p. 123. 



56 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

and these of themselves suggest why he should have so care- 
fully concealed his " Catholic Confession of Faith." 

If it is clear that the parents of William Shakespeare were 
both Catholics, is it not reasonable to suppose that the poet 
followed the usual instinct of a child by imbibing the religious 
sentiment which filled his home, and which was breathed over 
him into his spiritual lungs, as it were, from his mother, while 
he was lying in his cradle % 

The first piece of proof we have upon this subject is very 
positive in its character. It comes from a clergyman who 
knew Shakespeare, and upon the examination of whose papers 
another clergyman, the Eev. Eichard Davies, declares that the 
poet, who was born a Papist, died one. Surely it should re- 
quire something more than mere incredulity on the part of 
Protestant biographers to annihilate this authoritative state- 
ment. 

The positive declaration of the Pev. Dr. Davies, founded 
as it was upon documentary and other evidence, furnished to 
him as a legacy by one who may be regarded almost as con" 
temporary with the poet, must therefore be taken as proof of 
that fact, not to be affected by any testimony less absolute in 
its character, and certainly not removed, unless sapped quite 
away by a steady and resistless flow of circumstantial evidence, 
breaking constantly, as our proofs do, through the current of 
the poet's life, and continually dropping from him in his 
writings. 

Unfortunately for the Protestant side of the argument, the 
first thing we fall upon, in corroboration of the Pev. Dr. 
Davies's declaration, is the fact that it was made two years 
previous to the discovery by Mosely of John Shakespeare's 
" Confession of Faith." The next proof we have of the ten- 
dency of circumstances to keep William Shakespeare faithful 
to the maternal precepts of his infancy is the Puritan perse- 
cution, by Sir Thomas Lucy and the other Protestant Com- 
missioners of Stratford, of the father, and subsequent punish- 
ment by Sir Thomas of the son. Again, in London the young 
adventurer was immediately met by the same spirit of sectarian 
intolerance as had harassed his family in Stratford, and which 
again challenged him upon the very threshold of his new 



The Religion of the Shakespeare Family, 5 7 

•efforts to pluck a living from the world. For we are told by 
the historians of the Shakespearean period that the contest 
which the theatre had to undergo for an existence, about the 
time Shakespeare went up to London, was between the hold- 
ers of opposite opinions in religion. " The Puritans," says 
Knight, " made the theatre the special object of their indig- 
nation." So the Protestant crusade, which began against 
Shakespeare's father, which had been continued against 
Shakespeare himself, before he arrived at man's estate in 
Stratford, maintained a ceaseless, unremitting warfare against 
his chosen avocation in the great metropolis, and, doubtless, 
embittered him against that faith for life. 

Thus, having shown the religious conditions under which 
the poet's mind was formed, the pressure of circumstances 
operating upon his filial bent and tending to render inexorable 
the opinions thus initiated, we come logically to the examina- 
tion of Shakespeare's personal testimony on the subjects of 
doctrine and religious faith, as exhibited in the spontaneous 
utterances of his plays. 

Before undertaking this branch of our examination, how- 
ever, I deem it necessary to first consider an objection which 
has been raised by certain Protestant biographers of late 
years to the likelihood of Shakespeare having been a Roman 
Catholic. Their point, which seems at first sight to be well 
taken, as stated by Grant White, is that, if Shakespeare " ever 
became a member of the Church of Pome, it must have been 
after he wrote ' Romeo and Juliet,' in which he speaks of 
evening mass, for the humblest member of that Church knows 
that there is no mass at vespers." 

But, leaving this question to be considered in the next 
chapter, I herewith append to this one the text of the " Con- 
fession of Faith" of John Shakespeare. 

"JOHN SHAKESPEARE'S CONFESSION OF FAITH. 

" Section I. 

" 'In the name of God, the Father, Sonne, and Holy Ghost, the most 
holy and Messed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, the holy host of archan- 
gels, angels, patriarchs, prophets, evangelists, apostles, saints, martyrs, and 
all the celestial court and company of heaven ; I, John Shakspear, an un- 



58 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

worthy member of the holy Catholic religion, being at this, my present 
writing, in perfect health of body, and sound mind, memory, and under- 
standing, but calling to mind the uncertainty of life and certainty of death, 
and that I may be possibly cut off in the blossome of my sins, and called 
to render an account of all my transgressions externally and internally, and 
that I may be unprepared for the dreadful trial either by sacrement, pen- 
nance, fasting, or prayer, or any other purgation whatever, do, in the holy 
presence above specified, of my own free and voluntary accord, make and 
ordaine this, my last spiritual will, testament, confession, protestation, and 
confession of faith, hopinge hereby to receive pardon for all my sinnes and 
offences, and thereby to be made partaker of life everlasting, through the 
only merits of Jesus Christ, my saviour and redeemer, who took upon him- 
self the likeness of man, suffered death, and was crucified upon the crosse, 
for the redemption of sinners. 

[Here follow the remaining sections, down to Section XIII inclusive.] 

" Section XIV, and last. 

" ' I, John Shakspeare, having made this present writing of protesta- 
tion, confession, and charter, in presence of the blessed Virgin Mary, my 
angell guardian, and all the celestial court, as witnesses hereunto: the 
which my meaning is, that it be of full value now, presently, and for ever, 
with the force and vertue of testament, codicil, and donation in course of 
death : confirming it anew, being in perfect health of soul and body, and 
signed with mine own hand ; carrying also the same about me, and for the 
better declaration hereof, my will and intention is that it be finally buried 
with me after my death. 

" ' Pater noster, Ave Maria, Credo. 

Jesu, son of David, have mercy on me. Amen.' 

"If the intention of the testator, as expressed in the close of this will, 
was carried into effect, then of course the manuscript which Mosely found 
must necessarily have been a copy of that which was buried in the grave 
of John Shakespeare. 

" Mr. Malone, to whom, in his edition of Shakespeare, printed in 1790, 
we are indebted for this singular paper, and for the history attached to it, 
observes that he was unable to ascertain whether it was drawn up by John 
Shakespeare, the father, or by John, his supposed eldest son ; but he says, 
4 1 have taken some pains to ascertain the authenticity of this manuscript, 
and, after a very careful inquiry, am perfectly satisfied that it is genuine.' 
In the 'Inquiry,' however, which was published in 1796, relative to the 
Ireland papers, he has given us, though without assigning any reasons for 
his change of opinion, a very different result. ' In my conjecture,' he 
remarks, ' concerning the writer of that paper, I certainly was mistaken : 
for I have since obtained documents that clearly prove it could not have 
been the composition of any one of our poet's family.' 

" This conjecture of Mr. Chalmers appears to us in its leading points 



The Religion of the Shakespeare Family. 59 

very plausible ; for that the father of our poet might be a Roman Catho- 
lic, is, if we consider the very unsettled state of his times with regard to 
religion, not only a possible, but a probable supposition, in which case it 
would undoubtedly have been the office of the spiritual director of the 
family to have drawn up such a paper as that which we have been perus- 
ing. It was the fashion also of the period, as Mr. Chalmers has subse- 
quently observed, to draw up confessions of religious faith, a fashion hon- 
ored in the observance by the great names of Lord Bacon, Lord Burghley, 
and Archbishop Parker. That he declined, however, attending the corpo- 
ration meeting of Stratford from religious motives, and that his removal 
from that body was the result of non-attendance from such a cause, can not 
readily be admitted ; for we have clearly seen that his defection was owing 
to pecuniary difficulties; nor is it in the least degree probable that, after 
having honorably filled the highest offices in the corporation without scru- 
ple, he should at length, and in a reign too popularly Protestant, incur 
expulsion from an avowed motive of this kind, especially as we have reason 
to suppose, from the mode in which this profession was concealed, that the 
tenets of the person whose faith it declares were cherished in secret. 

"From an accurate inspection of the handwriting of this will, Mr. 
Malone infers that it can not be attributed to an earlier period than the 
year 1600, whence it follows that if dictated by, or drawn up at the desire 
of, John Shakespeare, his death soon sealed the confession of his faith ; 
for, according to the register, he was buried on September 8, 1601." — 
Deake, vol. i, pp. 9-14. 



6o Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEK YIH. 



EVENING- MASS. 



At the conclusion of the last chapter we found ourselves 
confronted with the apparent difficulty of Shakespeare's al- 
leged erroneous use of the word evening mass, and in pur- 
suing the inquiry upon this point we have White's view, sup- 
ported by similar observations from H. von Friesen,yi his 
" Alt-England und William Shakespeare " (1874), pp. 286, 287, 
and also by Staunton, who, says Dowden, "had previously 
noticed the same difficulty." But the word mass, forcibly 
adds Dowden, as used in the passage from " Romeo and 
Juliet," is explained by Clarke as meaning generally service, 
office, prayer. 1 

Indeed, this explanation, backed by the majority of the 
critics, warrants us in uniting with the general judgment, 
that the term " evening mass " was simply the error of 
some Protestant printer, who, being ignorant of the familiar 
Church use of the Catholic word " office" relieved his puzzled 
mind by slipping the more familiar Catholic word " mass " 
into a Catholic speaker's mouth. Or, perhaps, as the remark 
of Dowden happily suggests, the original term used in this 
instance by Shakespeare might have been " evening service " 
or " evening prayer ." Any mistake of this sort was more likely 
than that our poet (so wise as he shows himself to have been 
in Catholic lore) could have betrayed such ignorance as this. 

The Pev. William Harness (himself a Protestant), in de- 
fending the opinion that the expression of " evening mass " 

1 Dowden's " Shakespeare's Mind and Art," 1875, p. 39. 



Evening Mass. 6 1 

was the mistake of the copyist or printer in some edition sub- 
sequent to the first, remarks : " Shakespeare appears to have 
been entirely careless of literary fame. He wrote only for the 
theatre ; his purpose was answered if his pieces were success- 
ful on the stage; and he was perfectly careless of the manner 
in which his most splendid productions were disfigured in 
surreptitious and defective editions, and his most exquisite 
passages rendered ridiculous by the blunders of ignorant tran- 
scribers. The plays that were printed in his lifetime, with 
the exception of ' Titus Andronicus,' had all issued from the 
press, under circumstances the most injurious to the reputa- 
tion of their author, without his revision or superintendence, 
and perhaps without his consent or knowledge, and when, 
eight years after his death, his friends Heminge and Condell 
undertook the collection and publication of his works, it is 
scarcely possible that the MSS. from which the folio was 
printed should have been the MSS. of Shakespeare. Those 
had probably perished in the fire that destroyed the Globe 
Theatre in 1613, and the first folio was made up from the 
playhouse copies, and deformed by all the omissions and addi- 
tions which had been adopted to suit the imperfections or ca- 
price of the several performers. Most of the commentators 
follow this opinion, and agree with Harness " that nothing can 
be more certain than that our poet never superintended or re- 
vised a single copy of his plays" except, perhaps, the first. 
Nay, that some of the earliest copies " appear to have been 
taken by ear, during representation, without any assistance 
from the originals belonging to the playhouses." " Hundreds 
of spurious lines," says another commentator, " have been thus 
insinuated in the Shakespeare text." 

In the face of these likelihoods and judgments, however, 
Charles Knight, who seems to have had the Shakespearean 
popularity, and to still be the fashion among the English pub- 
lishers, during the last generation took the notion to declare 
(though I wish he had said why) that the second edition of 
" Romeo and Juliet," printed in 1599, had " without doubt 
been revised and corrected by the author." 

This opinion, as it was unaccompanied by any word of 
proof, would probably not have commanded much attention 



62 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

but for the fact that the edition thus ostentatiously referred 
to contained the spurious expression of " evening mass." This 
remark of Knight's was equal to declaring, in the most author- 
itative way, that Shakespeare recognized his own ignorance 
on the subject of the Catholic ritual. The edition in which 1 
first noticed this pretension was called " the Stratford Shake- 
speare," by Charles Knight, reprinted in six volumes, by D. 
Appleton & Co., New York, 1874. 

This assumption, that the edition of 1599 had been 
4i revised and corrected " by Shakespeare two years after the 
appearance of the first edition, was not boldly and fairly put 
forth by Knight, over his own name, at the opening of the 
play of " Romeo and Juliet," to which such a new and ex- 
traordinary statement was certainly entitled; but the assertion 
was left to catch the eye in a sort of chance way, as a species 
of casual remark or marginal note, and not of established 
currency. 

It figured, in short, as a mere observation between the 
dramatis personce and the Prologue, and seemed to have a 
furtive look, as if conscious of trying to obtain footing for its 
idea how it could, and in rather a shabby way. 

It read as follows : 

" 'Romeo and Juliet' was first printed in the year 1597. 
The second edition was printed in 1599. The title of that 
edition declares it to be ' newly corrected, augmented, and 
amended.' There can he no doubt whatever that the correc- 
tions, augmentations, and emendations were those of the au- 
thor. We know of nothing in literary history," continues he, 
" more curious or more instructive than the example of mi- 
nute attention, as well as consummate skill, exhibited by 
Shakespeare in correcting, augmenting, and amending the first 
copy of this play." 

In calling attention to the above lines, italicized by me, and 
also to those which immediately follow, I feel at liberty to re- 
fuse all credence to them, and to add that I know of nothing 
in literary experiment more bold and warrantless than this 
attempt to foist a fiction on the page of history. The very 
fact that the title-page of the second edition, when it announced 
that it was " newly corrected, augmented, and amended," did 



Evening Mass. 63 

not add u by the author," is a distinct proof that the author 
had nothing to do with it. Such would have been invaluable 
words. Any one who has the least experience in book pub- 
lishing will know that no publisher would overlook them. 

But we need not dwell upon Knight's obvious religious 
artifice. Its subtle sword-play is struck down by the rude 
two-handed fact, already given, that Shakespeare did not put 
his name to the revision ; while we can not help believing that, 
had the second edition been really revised by Shakespeare, not 
only would the manifest error about evening mass have been 
corrected, but his own and really greater error, in the impossi- 
ble age which he assigns to Juliefs wet nurse, would have 
been reduced by perhaps full forty years. 

This queer blunder, or possibly downright caprice of 
Shakespeare, in presenting the wet nurse of an almost baby 
girl as an old crone, who during Juliet's infancy must have 
been long past the age of nurture, seems to have escaped the 
eyes of all the critics until it attracted the attention of the 
author of the present work in 1875. Juliet was barely twelve 
when she died ; her mother, Lady Capulet, only twenty-eight. 8 

Finally, and for every reason which I deena— o£^weight, I 
decline to believe that the term " evening mass " was the error 
of our author. It was the pretension of religious interests ; 
the after-thought of a subsequent age. 

The remarkable testimony of Dr. Johnson as to the un- 
likelihood of Shakespeare ever having revised or corrected any 
of his plays (except, perhaps, the first) may be said to close 
the case in our poet's favor. 

" Of the plays which bear the name of Shakespeare in the 
late editions," says the Doctor, " the greater number were not 
published till several years after his death, and the few which 
appeared in his life are apparently thrust into the world with- 
out the care of the author, and therefore probably without his 
knowledge." 

8 See review of " Romeo and Juliet," chap, xxxiv. 



64 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View* 



CHAPTER IX. 



RELIGION OF SHAKESPEARE. 



There is another piece of textual testimony which the 
Protestant biographers of Shakespeare refer to, in order to re- 
sist the theory that he was of the Roman Catholic faith. It 
is put forward in its most prominent form by Knight, who, 
combating the inferences of Chalmers and Drake in favor of 
Shakespeare's Romanism, as evinced in his frequent references 
to " purgatory," " shrift," " confession," etc., in his dramas, 
says : " Surely the poet might exhibit this familiarity with the 
ancient language of all Christendom without thus speaking 
from the overflow of Roman Catholic zeal. Was it Roman 
Catholic zeal," he adds, " which induced him to write those 
strong lines in 'King John' against the Italian priest, and 
against those who 

( Purchase corrupted pardon of a man ' ? 

" Was it 6 Roman Catholic zeal ' which made him intro- 
duce these words into the famous prophecy of the glory and 
happiness of the reign of Elizabeth : 

1 God shall be truly known ' "? 

The first of these quotations looks very formidable ; but, 
turning to the fountain of the phrase in the body of the text, 
we find that the quotation had been warped from its true 
meaning by the critic, and made to present a proposition not 
the author's. No one could read Knight's presentation of the 
quotation as above, along with his own unwarranted words, 
without supposing it was launched not only against the one 
person addressed, but against all " those who purchased ' cor- 



Religion of Shakespeare. 65 

rupted' pardon of a man," or, in short, without coming to the 
conclusion that Shakespeare meant to deride and reject the 
sanctity of that vital principle of the Roman Catholic faith, 
the rite of confession — and the consequent prerogatives of 
punishment and absolution ! And I readily admit that no 
Roman Catholic writer could ever have permitted himself to 
do this under any pressure of poetical necessity. But Wil- 
liam Shakespeare never did it — never in the plays ascribed to 
him, at least. 

The line as above perverted by Knight against Shake- 
speare's Catholicity is addressed by King John to Philip 
Augustus of France, and applies to Pandulph, the Legate of 
the Pope, who had then recently been dispatched from Rome 
to England, to demand of John the immediate appointment 
of Stephen Langton, the Pope's nominee, to the archbishopric 
of Canterbury on pain of excommunication ; and also to inter- 
rogate him (King John) why he had thus far been contu- 
macious to the supreme orders of his Holiness in this respect. 
Pandulph, in pursuance of this insolent commission, finds 
John in France, at the head of an English army of invasion, 
confronting a like array of the French legions under the 
command of Philip. Seizing the opportunity thus afforded 
him of making his insolence the more conspicuous, Pandulph, 
in the presence of the two kings, surrounded by their respect- 
ive nobles, delivers his arrogant message. The English king 
is natually roused to anger and resistance by this insult, 
whereupon Shakespeare, through the mouth of John, treats 
the prelate in the political attitude he had assumed, and 
makes John speak with the spirit and dignity which became 
an English king. This is in agreement with the practice 
of other Roman Catholic writers, as may be seen in the treat- 
ment by Dumas of the Cardinals Mazarin and Richelieu. 
When the churchman sinks his profession in the character of 
an ambassador, he is dealt with as a politician ; and, when as 
a king he abandons himself to crime and despotism, he is, as 
in the case of Richard III and of John also, treated as a 
tyrant and murderer. In these crimes the assassin sinks the 
king ; as the primate, by his ambition, veils the priest. It 
was the only method by which the poet could protect his faith 
5 



66 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

from the necessities of history, and consequently the epithets 
he uses through the mouths of his incensed characters, as 
"false priest" and "meddling priest," are only such as are 
indispensable to anger under any and all circumstances. 
Shakespeare was too well versed in human nature not to 
know that an inflamed mind will always assail its enemy 
where he is most false, always preferring an accusation of 
hypocrisy to any other. But here I prefer to let the text 
speak to the reader for itself: 

"King John," Act III, Scene 1. 

France — the French Kingh tent. Present — King John, King Philip, 
Aeohduke of Austbia, Faulconbeidge, Lewis, the French Dauphin, 
Salisbuet, Aethue, Constance, Blanche, Elinoe, and attendants. 

Enter Pandulph. 

K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. 
Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of Heaven ! 

To thee, king John, my holy errand is. 

I, Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, 

And from Pope Innocent the legate here, 

Do, in his name, religiously demand, 

"Why thou against the church, our holy mother, 

So wilfully dost spurn ; and, force perforce, 

Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop 

Of Canterbury, from that holy see ? 

This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name, 

Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. 
K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories 

Can task the free breath of a sacred king]? 

Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name 

So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, 

To charge me to an answer, as the Pope. 

Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England 

Add thus much more — That no Italian priest 

Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; 

But as we under heaven are supreme head, 

So, under Him, that great supremacy 

Where we do reign, we will alone uphold 

Without the assistance of a mortal hand; 

So tell the Pope ; all reverence set apart, 

To him, and his usurp'd authority. 
K. Phi, Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. 



Religion of Shakespeare. 67 

E!. John. Though you, and all the kings of Christendom, 

Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, 

Dreading the curse that money may buy out; 

And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, 

Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, 

Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself; 

Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led, . 

This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish; 

Yet I alone, alone do me oppose 

Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes. 
Pand. Then by the lawful power that I have, 

Thou shalt stand curs'd, and excommunicate : 

And blessed shall he be that doth revolt 

From his allegiance to an heretic : 

And meritorious shall that hand he calVd, 

Canonized, and worshiped as a saint, 

That takes away, oy any secret course, 

Thy hateful life. 

Philip of France, on peril of a curse, 
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ; 
And raise the power of France upon his head, 
Unless he do submit himself to Rome. 

K. Phi. Thou shalt not need : England, I'll fall from thee. 
K. John. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. 

In the light of these quotations it becomes obvious that 
Knight's presentation of the first italicized line, with its in- 
ferential words, had the object of making it appear that 
Shakespeare was deriding and mocking at the rite of con- 
fession; and this plain perversion of the author's meaning 
was, consequently, not only an abuse of the truth, but an 
insult, by Mr. Knight, to the understanding of his readers. 
The whole scene represents no independent sentiment of 
Shakespeare as a writer, any more than does the language of 
John, when he orders Hubert to commit murder upon Arthur, 
represent Shakespeare's sentiments; or than the words of 
Richard III represent the poet's principles, when Richard 
directs the assassination of the Princes in the Tower. But 
we can perceive, by the course of the play of " King John," 
where the poet does step in and takes sides ; and, when he 
thus makes his individual inclinations thus seen, he decides 



68 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

most signally in favor of the Prelate and the Church. He 
shows that John, with all his resolution and surroundings, 
can not withstand the Church's power, but surrenders to it, 
humbles himself abjectly before the Legate, and is finally 
consigned to an ignominious death. In the scene immediately 
following the above, we find King John, while still in the 
height of his resentment, giving an order to his creature, 
Fauleonbridge, to hasten to England, and ransack and plunder 
the monasteries : 

King John (to the Bastard). 

Cousin, away to England ; haste before ; 

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the hags 

Of hoarding abbots ; imprisoned angels 

Set at liberty : the fat ribs of peace 

Must by the hungry now be fed upon : 

Use our commission in his utmost force ! 
Bastaed. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back, 

When gold and silver becks me to come on. 

At the opening of Act Y we find that King John, unable 
to contend any longer, even in his own dominions, against the 
power of the Pope, makes absolute submission and resigns 
his crown, in order that he may undergo the humiliation of 
receiving it back from his hands and of holding it subject to 
his breath : 

Act Y. — A Room in the Palace. 
Enter King John, Pandulph with the crown, and attendants. 

K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand 

The circle of my glory. 
Pand. Take again [Giving John the crown.. 

From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, 

Your sovereign greatness and authority. 
K. John. Now keep your holy word: go meet the French : 

And from his holiness use all your power 

To stop their inarches, 'fore we are inflamed. 

Our discontented counties do revolt; 

Our people quarrel with obedience, 

Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul, 

To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. 

This inundation of mistemper'd humor 

Rests by you only to be qualified. 



Religion of Shakespeare. 69 

Then pause not; for the present time's so sick, 
That present medicine must be miuister'd, 
Or overthrow incurable ensues. 
Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, 
Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope : 
But, since you are a gentle convertite, 
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war, 
And make fair weather in your blustering land. 
On this Ascension-day, remember well, 
Upon your oath of service to the Pope, 
G-o I to make the French lay down their arms. 

Here the Pope's Legate finishes with John. Now let us 
see what luck the poet assigns to Pandulph, in his assump- 
tions of papal supremacy over the King of France. Carry- 
ing out his contract with King John, Pandulph next appears 
before the French forces, which, under the charge of Lewis, 
the Dauphin, have invaded England, and are lying in camp 
near St. Edmunds-Bury : 

Act Y, Scene 2. 

Present — Lewis, the Dauphin, Salisbttky, and Soldiers. 

Enter Pandulph, attended. 

Pand. Hail, noble prince of France ; 

The next is this — King John hath reconcil'd 

Himself to Rome : his spirit is come in, 

That so stood out against the holy church, 

The great metropolis and see of Rome ; 

Therefore, thy threat'ning colors now wind up, 

And tame the savage spirit of wild war ; 

That, like a lion foster'd up at hand, 

It may lie gently at the foot of peace, 

And be no further harmful than in show. 
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back ; 

I am too high-born to be propertied, 

To be a secondary at control, 

Or useful serving-man, and instrument, 

To any sovereign state throughout the world. 

Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars 

Between this chastised kingdom and myself, 

And brought in matter that should feed this fire ; 

And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out 

With that same weak wind which enkindled it. 



Jo Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

You taught me how to know the face of right, 
Acquainted me with interest to this land, 
Tea, thrust this enterprise into ray heart; 
And come you now to tell me, John hath made 
His peace with Eome ? 

The Legate then curses the other side, whereupon the 
fight takes place, and the French, under the effects of Pan- 
dulph's new anathema, get the worst of it; but King John is 
led from the field, sick, during the middle of the melee, and 
retires to Swinstead Abbey, in the neighborhood. In the 
following scene his approaching death is thus described, and 
the lines I have italicized are among those which the Prot- 
estant biographers assume to rely upon to show that Shake- 
speare could not have been a Roman Catholic : 

Act Y, Scene 6. 

Hubebt. The Icing, I fear, is poisoned by a monk : 
I left him almost speechless, and hroke out 
To acquaint you with this evil, that you might 
The better arm you to the sudden time, 
Than if you had at leisure known of this. 

Bastaed. How did he take it? Who did taste to him? 

Hubebt. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, 

Whose towels suddenly burst out: the king 
Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. 

The monk who did this deed had evidently prepared him- 
self to carry out Pandulph's curse of excommunication, and 
also to revenge John's sacrilegious plunder of the monasteries. 
In those days of the absence of newspapers, this monk doubt- 
less had not been informed of the very recent pardon of John 
by Pandulph, and therefore, instead of being regarded as " a 
resolved villain," as Hubert, King John's minion, naturally 
terms him, he would be esteemed by the faithful, for his brave 
devotion of himself, as being worthy rather of " canonization n 
(which, indeed, was promised by Pandulph in Scene I) and a 
high place " among the glorious company of the apostles " 
than of harsh terms or any form of condemnation whatsoever. 
That the monk had long been " resolved " in his purpose of poi- 
soning the King, and to that extent was a resolved villain, is 



Religion of Shakespeare. 71 

evident from the fact that it must have cost him much time 
and considerable court influence to become " taster " to his 
Majesty, as a preliminary to the glorious canonization which 
he expected for carrying out the orders of the Legate at the 
expense of his own life. 

As to Knight's second exception to Shakespeare's Catho- 
licity, it seems hardly worthy of an argument. The prophecy 
made in the play of " Henry Till," that under the reign of 
the infant Elizabeth 

" God shall be truly known," 

is the expression of Cranmer, a Protesant prelate, and it is put 
into his mouth by Shakespeare during the reign of Protestant 
James I, through whose graciousness he still got his living as 
one of "her Majesty's players." Besides, the expression as to 
the worship of God the Father is as correct, in a Christian 
sense, in the mouth of a Roman Catholic as in that of a Prot- 
estant. Moreover, the speech of Cranmer, containing the 
above line, is almost universally attributed to Ben Jonson, as 
having written it in compliment to King James. 

This reasonably meets the Protestant arguments based 
upon the text of " King John." We come next to the evi- 
dence offered on the same side from " King Henry YI," Parts 
I and II. 

Two of the principal characters in both these plays are 
Humphrey, Duke of Gloster, brother of the deceased Henry Y, 
and the Duke of Beaufort, who is Bishop of Winchester, and 
subsequently becomes Cardinal Beaufort. Gloster is Lord 
Protector of the infant Henry YI, and, being beloved by the 
people, is popularly known throughout the country by the 
name of the Good Duke Humphrey. The Bishop of Win- 
chester, on the other hand, is shown by all the histories of the 
time to have been a lewd, unprincipled, conspiring, and bloody- 
minded villain, as bad in every respect as Iago, Angelo, or 
Edmund. The part which he performs is entirely political, 
and his principal aim is to supplant the Lord Protector, whom 
he finally succeeds in having murdered. These two characters 
come in conflict at the very outset of the dramatic history of 
" Henry YI." The first scene of their contention takes place 



72 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

before the Tower, into which the Lord Protector, though en- 
titled to arbitrary access to all public places in the realm, finds 
himself and his retainers refused admittance by the servants 
of the Bishop of Winchester, who are in possession. "While 
Gloster is clamoring at the gates, and threatening to burst 
them open, the following scene occurs in Act I, Scene 3 : 

Enter Winohestee, attended oy a train of Servants in tawny coats. 
Win. How now, ambitious Humphrey ? what means this ? 
G-lo. Piel'd priest, dost thou command me to be shut out? 
Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor, 

And not protector of the king or realm. 
Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator; 

Thou, that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord; 

Thou, that giv'st bawds 1 indulgences to sin : 

I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, 

If thou proceed in this thy insolence. 
Win. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot: 

Glo. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back : J 

Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing cloth 
I'll use, to carry thee out of this place. 

Win. Do what thou dar'st : I beard thee to thy face. 

Glo. What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face? — 
Draw, men, for all this privileged place : 
Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard. 

In a subsequent scene Gloster says to Winchester : 

Thou art reverent 
Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. 

Thus showing that he is neither a questioner of Winchester's 
religion nor a heretic himself. 

Again, after Winchester has been created cardinal, he 
challenges Gloster to a duel, which is finally settled by King 



1 1 have changed this word, for the purpose of these pages, out of re- 
gard for modern ears. The curious reader may consult the text. The line 
and the reproach which it conveys will be better understood when it is 
known that "the public stews in Southwark were under the jurisdiction 
of the Bishop of Winchester. In the office-book of the court all fees were 
entered that were paid by the keepers of these brothels — the Church reap- 
ing the advantages of these pests to society." 



Religion of Shakespeare, 73 

Henry. In Act III, Scene 1, Queen Margaret and Suffolk, 
her paramour, plot with York and Beaufort Gloster's assassi- 
nation, and thus the Cardinal : 

Cae. But I would lay him dead, my lord of Suffolk, 
Ere you can take due orders for a priest : 
Say, you consent, and censure well the deed, 
And I'll provide his executioner. 

The assassination is performed in pursuance of this con- 
spiracy, and the following is the scene of the conscience- 
stricken murderer's death-bed : 

Cardinal Beaufort's Bedchamber. 

JEnter King Heney, Salisbuey, Waewick, and others. The Cabdinal 

in bed; Attendants with him. 

K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign. 

Cae. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure, 
Enough to purchase such another island, 
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. 

K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, 

"When death's approach is seen so terrible ! 

"Wae. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. 

Cae. Bring me unto my trial when you will. 

Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ? 
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no? — 
O ! torture me no more, I will confess. — 
Alive again? then show me where he is: 
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. 
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. — 
Comb down his hair ; look ! look ! it stands upright, 
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! — 
Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 

K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 

Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
O, beat away the busy meddling fiend, 
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, 
And from his bosom purge this black despair ! 

Wae. See how the pangs of death do make him grin. 

Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. 

K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! 

Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, 
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. — 
He dies, and makes no sign ; God forgive him ! 



74 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

"War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 
K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. — 

Close up his eyes, and draw the curtains close ; 

And let us all to meditation. {Exeunt. 

At this point I desire to call attention to the King's nse of 
the word " meditation," which is a form of Catholic worship, 
or pious practice, prescribed by the Romish Church for cer- 
tain hours. King Henry, as a Catholic, had doubtless observed 
this devotion, and, of course, referred to it ; but William 
Shakespeare could hardly have made this doctrinal reference 
to it unless he had been a Catholic himself. 

By the foregoing extracts from the text, it will be seen that 
the parties were all Catholics together ; and the assumption 
that the author, because he makes one of them berate another, 
and reproach him with misrepresenting his clerical pretensions, 
is, therefore, not a Catholic, seems to me to be without force- 
Against this theory, we find Gloster distinctly recognizing 
Beaufort's faith, though he reprehends the sinfulness of the 
man ; while King Henry himself, the leading feature of whose 
character is devoted piety, consigns the accursed Cardinal to 
hell. Had Shakespeare been writing under the suspicion that 
the sincerity of his own faith might at some day be questioned 
for the freedom with which he makes Duke Humphrey curse 
the Cardinal, he could not have provided a more complete 
justification of his unswerving Romanism, or devised a more 
perfect excuse for his maledictions of the Cardinal, than 
is made by the pious king, when, looking in vain to see the 
dying wretch hold up his hand for mercy from his God, he 
sadly exclaims, 

"He dies, and makes no sign." 

Henry, in this exclamation, means of course no sign of 
repentance, without which, according to Catholic doctrine, no 
sinner can be allowed to enter heaven. 



Shakespeare's Contempt for Protestants. 75 



CHAPTER X. 



The determination of the English biographers of William 
Shakespeare to resist the theory that he was a Papist is actu- 
ated by entirely different motives from those which govern our 
present inquiry. Their object is to defend to the Protestant 
persuasion the prestige of a writer who, in his influence over 
the minds of the English people, is next in authority to God, 
and who has devoted the highest efforts of his genius to the 
constant inculcation of the most submissive loyalty to the 
aristocratic classes and the crown. 

The question of the religious faith of the author of the 
Shakespeare plays was of very trivial importance to the govern- 
ing classes of Great Britain at the time when Shakespeare 
wrote, and, indeed, for some time afterward. At the date of 
his career, the country had barely emerged from universal Ro- 
manism ; and the old faith received its first wound under Henry 
VIII, who died only seventeen years before Shakespeare was 
born. The blow which Henry struck at the Church, moreover,, 
was known to be one of politics rather than of faith. Besides, 
that faith, still suppressed during the short reign of Edward 
VI, was revived throughout the land by his daughter, Bloody 
Mary, in seven years after his decease (1553), which pious prin- 
cess enforced its reestablishment, after the earnest manner of 
her estimable father, by a persuasive multiplicity of decapita- 
tions, of burnings and boilings in oil, of all stubborn Non-con- 
formists. 

Protestantism was again restored by Elizabeth and James,, 
whose reigns covered Shakespeare's period. But no influence 



76 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

which he or any other writer for the stage then possessed was 
of the least importance to the Government. Churchmen at 
that time were either politicians or wore coats of mail, and 
conformity was secured for the established faith by sheriffs' 
officers or files of troops. These were tendencies which even 
the Muse of Shakespeare was bound to respect, and, instead of 
looking through his plays for distinct evidences of adherence to 
a doctrine which would not only have stripped him of his 
friends at court, but lost him the favor of both the last-named 
sovereigns, the wonder should rather be that, under such great 
temptations to be politic, he never was induced to allude to a 
Protestant without contempt. Indeed, the only Lutheran he 
ever permitted to escape from the point of his pen without a 
stab was Cranmer, because perhaps it was he who baptized 
Queen Elizabeth. The evidences of this contempt by Shake- 
speare for the Protestant persuasion may be found in his por- 
traiture of Sir Hugh Evans, the Welsh parson in u The Merry 
Wives of Windsor," described as a vain, profane, pragmatic, 
obscene creature, who frequents taverns, engages in a duel, 
and enters readily into a plot to pervert a marriage; * also of 
Nathaniel and of Holofernes, 2 respectively a country curate 
and a Protestant pedagogue, in " Love's Labour's Lost," and 
likewise of Sir Oliver Mar-text 3 in "As You Like It." All of 



*See " The Merry Wives of Windsor," Act III, Scene 1. 
3 " Love's Labour's Lost," Act IV, Scene 2 : 

Scene— Sie Nathaniel, the Cue ate, and Holofernes. 

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so may ray parishioners ; 
for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters profit very 
greatly under you ; you are a good member of the commonwealth. 

Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they shall want no instruc- 
tion : if their daughters be capable, I will put it to them : but, vir sapit 
qui pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us. 

3 "As You Like It," Act III, Scene 3 : 

Scene — Touchstone, Atjdeet, and Jaqijes. 

Touch. But be it as it may be, I will marry thee, and to that end, I 
have been with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village ; who 
hath promised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. 



Shakespeare's Contempt for Protestants. J? 

these three are mere buffoons, while the " Twelfth Night " 
is made to contribute its quota of derisive presentation of 
Protestant character by an illusory drunken parson called Sir 

Enter Sie Oliver Mae-text. 

Here comes Sir Oliver: Sir Oliver Mar- text, you are well met. Will 
you dispatch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your 
chapel ? 

Sie Oliv. Is there none here to give the woman ? 

Touch. I will not take her on the gift of any man. 

Jaq. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under a 
bush, like a beggar ? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can 
tell you what marriage is: this fellow will out join you together as they 
join wainscot: then one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and, like- 
green timber, warp, warp. 

Touch. I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of him 
than of another; for he is not like to marry me well, and not being well 
married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. 

[Aside. 
Jaq. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 
Touch. Come, sweet Audrey, 

We must be married, or we must live in bawdry. 
Farewell, good master Oliver ! 

[Exeunt Jaqijes, Touchstone, and Audrey. 

Sie Oliv. 'Tis no matter; ne'er a fantastical knave of them all shall 
flout me out of my calling. [Exit. 

4 " Twelfth Night," Act II, Scene 3 : 

Scene — Sie Toby Belch, Maeia, and Sie Andeew. 

Sie To. Possess us, possess us ; tell us something of him. 

Mae. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. 

Sie And. O if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. 

Sie To. What, for being a Puritan? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight? 

Sie And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good 
enough. 

Mae. The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a 
time-pleaser ; an affection'd ass. 

Act IV, Scene 2. — Sie Toby Belch, Maeia, and Clown as Sie Topas, the 

Parson. 

Sie Toby. Jove bless thee, master parson. 

Clown (to Sir Tody). Bonos dies, Sir Toby ; for, as the old hermit of 
Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King. 



78 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

Topas ; 4 though the Roman Catholic priest of the same play is 
most respectfully alluded to. In this reverent tone Shake- 
speare treats all his Romish clergymen ; so if he were really a 
Protestant, as the English biographers stubbornly insist, it is 
most extraordinary that, with a Protestant court to write 
to, and a Protestant people to cater for, his mind was never 
tempted by the high motive of religion into a sign of rever- 
ence for the faith that filled his soul ! 

It was not foreseen in Shakespeare's time that his intellect- 

Gorboduc, That, that is, is; so I, being master parson, am master parson. 
For what is that, but that? and is, but is? 

Sir To. To him, Sir Topas. 

Mook Sir T. What, hoa, I say — peace in this prison. 

Sir To. The knave counterfeits well ; a good knave. 

Mal. (in an inner chamber). Who calls there? 

Clown. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio, the lunatic. 

Mal. Sir Topas, Sir Topas, good Sir Topas, go to my lady. 

Clown. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! bow vexest thou this man? Talkest 
thou nothing but of ladies ? 

Sir To. Well said, master parson. 

Mal. Sir Topas, never was man thus wronged ; good Sir Topas, do 
not think I am mad; they have laid me here in hideous darkness. 

Clown. Fye, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee by the most modest 
terms; for lam one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself 
with courtesy. Say'st thou that house is dark? 

Mal. As hell, Sir Topas. 

The Same, Scene 3. 
Sebastian, Olivia, and a Priest. 

Out. Blame not this haste of mine : If you mean well, 
Now go with me, and with this holy man, 
Into the chantry by : there, before him, 
And underneath that consecrated roof, 
Plight me the full assurance of your faith; 
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
May live at peace : he shall conceal it, 
Whiles you are willing it shall come to note; 
What time we will our celebration keep 
According to my birth. — What do you say? 

Seb. Fll follow this good man, and go with you; 
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 

Oliv. Then lead the way, good father ; — And heavens so shine, 
That they may fairly note this act of mine ! [Exeunt. 



Shakespeards Contempt for Protestants, 79 

ual supremacy over all the intellects of his own nation would 
acquire for him an amount of moral power which a sagacious 
government, whether in its legal, religious, or its merely po- 
litical departments, could not afford to leave unutilized. In 
degree, as coats of mail were laid aside, the consent of the 
governed became an increasing element in the control of the 
State ; and then it was found that scholarship and genius were 
worthy of being officially patted on the back ; as, for instance, 
through the appointment of poets-laureate; or of writers 
cleverly subsidized in cozy government nooks, with comforta- 
ble sinecures. Of all the representatives of the new forces of 
civilization, Shakespeare, since his hour, has uninterruptedly 
remained the chief. His progress for a time was tardy, but, 
like the thin column of vapor which slowly curled from the 
magician's lamp, his genius kept rising and spreading itself 
before the wondering English people, until it covered the 
whole heaven of their comprehension, and they bowed 
amazedly before it, utterly enraptured by its glory. JSay, 
.such is the service which, with all his faults, our poet has ren- 
dered to mankind, that it is not too much to say, were the two 
separate questions put, to every man of the English-speaking 
race who can read and write, as to what was the greatest ben- 
efaction God ever made to man ? and to whom each of them 
was indebted for the greatest amount of intellectual pleasure 
he had enjoyed on earth? the unstudied and immediate answer 
would be, Shakespeare! To the question of, who next? the 
reply of the present generation would most likely be, Dickens 
— true to his class, true to morality, and the Apostle of the 
Poor! 

It is difficult for Americans who have never been in Eng- 
land to conceive to what an extent religion enters into the 
machinery of the British Government. In fact, the Episcopal 
Church of England has not only one-third of the actual gov- 
ernment in the hands of its representatives in the House of 
Lords, but it has gradually organized itself into a regular 
" industry," which covers the land with swarms of its depen- 
dents, represents accumulated salaries and annual incomes to 
the extent of millions upon millions of money, and is, in every 
respect, as much of an organized business, in the sense of an 



80 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

industry, as the industries of making boots and shoes, of the 
raising of beeves or of the growing of corn. So potent is* 
this " Industry of Religion " in the machinery of the British 
realm, that it claims one day out of every seven, or nearly 
one seventh part of the entire year, as a concession to its im- 
portance ; and this, too, to the subordination of every interest 
else. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that this great 
Episcopal power will permit no traffic but its own on what it 
terms the Lord's day; that it will suffer no doors to be 
opened in English cities for the transaction of business of any 
sort during the hours of service but church doors, and tolerate 
no sound at that time but the sound of church bells. In every 
other portion of the civilized world (except in the United 
States, which still crouches at the feet of English opinion), 
and under every form of religion but that of the English 
Episcopal Church, Sunday is free, and the People enjoy their 
usual pastimes, even to the extent of going to the races or to 
the theatres, accompanied often, as I have seen in Rome, 
Erance, Italy, Spain, and in other Catholic countries of North 
and South America, by their religious guides and teachers. 
The strange feature of this suppression of liberty on the Lord's 
day is the servile following which the English political Sun- 
day has in the United States ; and that, too, under a National 
Constitution which prohibits all connection between Church 
and State, and likewise uuder State Constitutions, every one 
of which declares that " no laws shall be made affecting re- 
ligious belief." 

This may seem to be a divergence from the purposes of 
this chapter. But its aim is merely to exhibit the immense 
interest which the English Government, and particularly that 
portion of it confided to the English Church (covering, as it 
does, the great domain of English scholarship), has, in con- 
centrating every particle of influence, which can contribute 
toward popular control, within their own hands, for the 
security of their privileges and the quiet management of the 
State. This is the reason why the English churchmen and 
nobility can not afford to relinquish the tremendous advan- 
tages of Shakespeare's inculcations of loyal subserviency 
upon millions of his worshipers, and why the dignitaries of 



Shakespeare's Contempt for Protestants. 81 

the Established Church can not permit that influence to be 
impaired, by admitting that he was a Roman Catholic. This 
is the key to the denial that he was an adherent of the latter 
doctrine, while my whole present purpose, in tracing the evi- 
dences of Shakespeare's attachment to the Catholic faith, is to 
show that the Shakespeare plays which so teem with Romish 
reverence, and which so abound with evidences of the writer's 
contempt for Protestantism, could not have been the produc- 
tion of a Puritan like Lord Bacon. Indeed, to settle this 
individuality more certainly, it is only necessary to contrast 
the decisive illustrations of this chapter, in the way of Shake- 
spearean extracts, with the undisputed facts that Bacon wrote 
metrical versions of the Psalms of David, and dedicated them 
to his Protestant friend, George Herbert, as " the best judge 
of divinity and poesy met " ; 4 and that he also, while a mem- 
ber of Parliament for Liverpool, wrote a paper on " Church 
Controversies," to assist a discourse of Secretary Walsingham 
on the conduct of the Queen's government toward Papists 
and dissenters. 6 

Every influence, however, has its period, and Shakespeare's 
prestige, which was nothing to Government in the arbitrary 
age in which he lived, became colossal as his genius developed 
itself to the expanding intelligence and growing literary tastes 
of his countrymen. Though now threatened with a decline 
from its political zenith, his poetic supremacy will not be im- 
paired, even if its political effectiveness be reduced to a 
quantity of ordinary power. Indeed, should it be proven he 
was a Catholic, it is not impossible that the nobility of Eng- 
land, which for two hundred years and more have been claim- 
ing for him a divine preeminence over all the poets of other 
countries, or that the English Church, which has been sternly 
backing these extreme pretensions, may ere long abandon him 
to the defenses of his own genius, and turn to other agencies 
for the protection of their political ascendancy. 

It is hardly necessary I should add anything, at this stage 
of my inquiry, as to the respective religious beliefs of Lord 

4 Holmes on " The Authorship of Shakespeare," p. 185. 
6 Holmes, p. 84. 
6 



82 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

Bacon and of "William Shakespeare ; but, before taking leave of 
" Henry YIII," which is an ample field of reference upon this 
subject, I will direct attention to the fact that the poet makes 
Queen Katharine, who is his beau ideal of Catholic purity and 
elevation, declare that "All hoods make not monks," and 
further on, when she addresses the Cardinals Wolsey and 
Campeius, he allows her to express the comprehension that 
politics soon drives religion from the soul by the sarcasm, 
" If ye be anything but churchmen's habits." ° I make this 
reference because it takes the steel out of Knight's point on 
the passage in u King John," commencing with 

" The king, I fear, is poisoned by a monk — 



A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain." 

I am reminded by a note from a Protestant friend (and it 
may be as well to state here that I am not a Catholic), that I 
shall probably find some difficulty in accounting for Shake- 
speare's great familiarity with the Bible, inasmuch as Catholics 
were not allowed to read the sacred volume ; but I find no 
difficulty in this fact at all. John Shakespeare, the poet's 
father, had been High Bailiff and first Alderman of Stratford, 
and as such had taken the oath of conformity ; so the absence 
of a Protestant Bible from his house might have led to the loss 
of his office, and possibly to the arrest of his family. The 
Bible, no doubt, was always lying conspicuously "around" in 
the Stratford homestead, and the youthful Shakespeare, with 
his rage for reading, must have eagerly devoured its splendid 
imagery — at any rate, whenever he had nothing else at hand. 
But he was equally, nay, much better informed upon Catho- 

6 See "Henry YIII," Act III, Scene 1. Also the following remarks by 
Dr. Samuel Johnson on the same: "The play of 'Henry YIII,'" says 
Johnson, " is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage by the 
splendor of its pageantry. The coronation scene, about forty years ago, 
drew the people together in multitudes for the great part of the winter. 
Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek sorrows and vir- 
tuous distress of Katharine have furnished some scenes which may be justly 
numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shake- 
speare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every other part may be 
easily conceived and easily written." , 



Shakespeare's Contempt for Protestants. &$ 

lie rites and peculiarities, than of Protestantisms, as has been 
shown by his frequent allusions to their terms and tenets, and 
especially to purgatory — in proof of which I refer to the 
following exquisite lines in " Richard III " : 

Queen Elizabeth. 

Ab, my poor princes ! Ah, my tender babes 1 
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! 
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, 
And oe not fix 1 & in doom perpetual, 
Hover about ine with your airy wings, 
And hear your mother's lamentations. 

Richard III, Act IV, Scene 4. 

Again by Buckingham in his invocation, on the way to 
execution, to the souls of those whom Ei chard (by his own 
help) had murdered : 

" All that have miscarried 
By underhand, corrupted foul injustice! 
If that your moody, discontented souls 
Do through the clouds behold this present hour, 
Even for revenge, mock my destruction ! " 

One of the most remarkable evidences to my mind that 
Shakespeare could not have been a Protestant, is the restraint 
which he imposed upon himself during Elizabeth's reign 
against writing even a line reflecting upon the manifold atro- 
cities of Bloody Mary, though she at one time even meditated 
sending his patroness, Elizabeth, to the block. Of the same 
character are his slavish praises to that unparalleled miscreant, 
Henry VIII, who stifled Smithfield with the smoke of human 
sacrifices for opinion's sake. Nevertheless, Shakespeare has 
falsely handed down this monster to the English people, gilded 
by the halo of his genius ; nay, has consigned him even to their 
affections as Bluff King Hal. There was some reason, per- 
haps, why the poet should pass him gently by, as the father of 
Elizabeth (though the play of " Henry VIII" was not written 
until long after her decease), but I have no doubt that Shake- 
speare's main reason for this favor was because Henry, not- 
withstanding his persecutions of the Church, died a good 
Catholic. The same reason may be held to account for the 
poet's extreme devotion to Queen Katharine, who was con- 



84 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

spicuous for nothing, except for the profound depth of her 
Catholic bigotry, which, instead of having been softened by 
English influences, seems to have deepened from the hour of 
her leaving Spain. 

Before closing this chapter I may add that I find another 
personal proof of Shakespeare's Eomanism in the bitter hatred 
which he repeatedly exhibits to the Jews. This prejudice 
does not exist largely among Protestants; at any rate, not 
among the Protestants of the United States. On the contrary, 
the Jews mingle here with Christians without any social 
disadvantage ; and, for my own part, I have never heard of 
any historical, ethnological, or moral reason why they should 
suffer the least discount in any equitable estimation. The 
world is not at all indebted to "William Shakespeare for what 
he has done to contribute toward this narrow, groveling, and 
contemptible reflection upon the Jews ; and least of all should 
he be respected for it in America; less than at any time, 
to-day. Prejudice is the very meanest form of slavery ; for it 
is the slavery of the mind. One black, shriveling blot, slavery, 
has recently been extirpated from the national conscience. 
Surely there can be no excuse for allowing even a shadow of 
this other to remain. 



Legal Acquirements of Shakespeare. 85 



CHAPTER XL 

LEGAL ACQUIREMENTS OF SHAKESPEARE. 

Having now disposed, in a general way, of the inquiry 
as to the respective religious beliefs of Sir Francis Bacon 
and of William Shakespeare, we are prepared to pass to the 
reading of the plays for further evidence in support of the 
Homan Catholic theory; and also for evidence to test the 
truth of the declarations in our opening chapter, that the 
author of the Shakespeare plays was never betrayed into one 
generous aspiration in favor of popular liberty, and never 
alluded to the laboring classes without detestation or con- 
tempt. Further, that he could not have been a statesman or 
a lawyer ; both of which, beyond all doubt, Lord Bacon was. 
In dealing with this latter point, I am aware I shall have to 
undertake the hazard of disagreeing, to some extent, with so 
powerful an authority as Lord Chief Justice Campbell, of 
England, and also with distinguished lawyers in America, 
while, in denying to Shakespeare a single political emotion in 
favor of liberty for the masses, I am also conscious of the 
apparent contradiction which presents itself to this assump- 
tion in the one solitary play of " Julius Caesar," through the 
character of Brutus. Upon this latter point, however, I shall 
only stop at this stage of the inquiry to say that Brutus, 
though a patriot, in the sense of an abounding love of coun- 
try, was at the same time an intense aristocrat, who struck 
Caesar purely in defense of an oligarchical form of government 
and the privileges of his own patrician class. His conspiracy 
never contemplated for a moment the liberation of the people 
from their fixed condition of bondsmen and of slaves. His 



86 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

invocations to Liberty, therefore, were merely in the interest 
of the associated nobles, as contrasted with the invidious 
despotism of a king, and did not comprehend reducing the 
degrading distance between the patricians, who were the 
masters of the state, and the plebeians, who were the dirt 
under their feet. This was the form of the Roman republic 
in the defense of which Brutus, Cassius, " and the rest," struck 
down the ambitious Caesar. They were patriots in their own 
estimation of course, but they were patriots in the same sense 
as the Earls of Warwick and of Salisbury were patriots ; and 
their love of country was of precisely the same brand as that 
of King John and of Henry Y. But of this more in the 
proper place. 

The assumption that the author of the Shakespeare plays 
must have been a lawyer, from the evidences of legal erudition 
which are strewed throughout his text, has been a very favor- 
ite one with the majority of the commentators and biographers 
of William Shakespeare ; and when the Baconian theory was 
broached these evidences were eagerly seized upon by the 
persons who claimed the credit of those wonderful productions 
for the great lord chancellor. At the outset of this discussion 
of Shakespeare's legal lore, Bacon was not thought of in con- 
nection with the puzzle ; and the commentators, therefore,, 
were forced, pretty generally, to come to the conclusion that 
during the six or seven years between Shakespeare's leaving 
school and going up to London he had either been articled to 
an attorney or been a clerk and scrivener in some notary's 
office. Some critics, whose brows were more rainbowed than 
the rest, suggested that any extent of scholastic accomplish- 
ment might fairly be attributed to the vivid, lambent, quick- 
breeding conception of such a miracle of genius as the poet of 
our race ; but this exceptional theory made but little headway 
with more sober reasoners, mainly for the want of precedents 
that any man was ever known to have learned his letters or 
attained to the art of making boots or watches by mere intui- 
tion. The fact is, that the true difficulty with this portion of 
the inquiry has been that too much erudition and legal com- 
prehension have been attributed to Shakespeare for what his 
law phrases indicate; or, in plainer words, they have been 



Legal A cquiremen ts of Shakespeare. 8 7 

paraded at a great deal more value than they are really 
worth. 

Let me say, however, that without attributing too much to 
the exceptional superiority of Shakespeare's quickness of con- 
ception and intellectual grasp, all the knowledge which he 
shows of legal verbiage and of certain general principles of 
law, so far as he refers to them in his plays, might, it seems to 
me, have been obtained — first, by reading certain elementary 
works of law falling in his way ; next, by attendance at the 
courts of record, held twice a month at Stratford, and county 
courts, held in the same town twice a year. Next, through 
his own subsequent experience as an owner of real estate ; 
which latter position necessarily familiarized him with all the 
forms of " purchase," of leases, of mortgages, and sale. Be- 
sides, he might reasonably be credited with much additional 
law knowledge gained by legal borrowing and lending, and 
through lawsuits which we know he instituted for the recov- 
ery of debt. I think it would be difficult for Lord Campbell 
to show that the law phrases which Shakespeare uses go be- 
yond the scope of such opportunity of acquisition to a bright- 
minded man ; while, if we are to take into consideration the 
subsequent advantages our poet derived in London from 
familiar discussion of the great law cases of the day at " The 
Mermaid "* and other popular taverns he frequented near the 
Inns of Court, where such men as Ben Jonson, Beaumont and 
Fletcher, Selden, Cotton, Carew, Donne, Martin, Sir Walter 
Raleigh, and sometimes even Bacon himself, found conver- 
sational relaxation in the absence of newspapers, we should 
come to the conclusion that Shakespeare must have been a 
very dull man if he had not acquired at least as much legal 
knowledge as his dramas show. a 

1 Beaumont, in a friendly letter to Ben Jonson from the country, says : 
" What things have we seen 
Done at the Mermaid ! heard words that have been 
So nimble, and so fall of subtle flame, 
As if that every one from whom they came 
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest." 

* Lord Campbell says : "At Stratford there was, by royal charter, a 
court of record, with jurisdiction over all personal action to the amount 



88 Shakespeare, front an American Point of View. 

Chalmers was the first to present the theory that Shake- 
speare must, for a considerable portion of his youthful life, 
have been an attorney's clerk at Stratford. Malone and others 
adopted this view from the very necessity of accounting for the 
oft-recurring law phrases in the Shakespeare text ; while Lord 
Chief Justice Campbell has been carried to such an extent of 
enthusiasm by these professional terms as to attribute to Shake- 
speare quite an extensive knowledge of the law. His expres- 
sion is : " Great as is the knowledge of the law which Shake- 
speare's writings display, and familiar as he appears to have 
been with all its forms and proceedings, the whole of this 
would easily be accounted for, if for some years he had occu- 
pied a desk in the office of a country attorney in good business ; 
attending sessions and assizes, keeping leet days and law days, 
and perhaps being sent up to the metropolis in term time to 
conduct suits before the Lord Chancellor." 8 

My objection to this is, with due deference to so great a 
lawyer as a lord chief justice, that the author of the Shake- 
speare plays did not in fact possess any great knowledge of the 
law ; or, if he did, his dramatic writings do not show it. He 
exhibits, without doubt, a familiarity with law expressions, and 
applies them with a precision and a happiness which apparently 
carry the idea that he may have served in an attorney's office ; 
but not one of them marks, nor do all of them together mark, 
anything higher than mere general principles and forms of 
practice, or such surface clack and knowledge as were within 



of £30, equal, at the latter end of the reign of Elizabeth, to more than 
£100 in the reign of Victoria. This court, the records of which are ex- 
tant, was regulated by the course of practice and pleading which prevailed 
in the superior courts of law at Westminster, and employed the same bar- 
barous dialect, composed of Latin, English, and ISTorman French. It sat 
every fortnight, and there belonged to it, besides the town clerk, six attor- 
neys, some of whom must have practiced in the Queen's Bench in Chan- 
cery, and have had extensive business in conveyancing. An attorney, 
steward of the Earl of Warwick, lord of the manor of Stratford, twice a 
year held a court-leet and view of frank-pledge there, to which a jury was 
summoned, and at which constables were appointed and various present- 
ments were made." — Campbell, p. 22. 

3 " Shakespeare's Legal Attainments," by Lord John Campbell. Ap- 
pleton's edition, 1869, p. 24. 



Legal A cquirements of Shakespeare. 8 9 

the mental reach, of any clever scrivener or conveyancer's 
clerk. On the contrary, whenever Shakespeare steps beyond 
the surface comprehension of the attorney or solicitor's phrase- 
ology, and attempts to deal with the spirit and philosophy 
of law, he makes a lamentable failure. " The Merchant of 
Venice," " Comedy of Errors," " Winter's Tale," and " Meas- 
ure for Measure " contain conspicuous proofs of this deficiency, 
while the statesmanship of the Duke in the " Two Gentlemen 
of Verona," who, in his joy at recovering his daughter from 
a gang of cut-throats, endeavors to reform them by appoint- 
ing them to high posts under Government, is a sort of policy 
which Lord Bacon was never accused of, even after he became 
a member of the Privy Council. 

Lord Campbell's essay on " The Legal Acquirements of 
Shakespeare " was drawn forth by an inquiry addressed to his 
lordship on that subject, by Mr. Payne Collier (one of the most 
learned and thorough of the Shakespearean commentators), 
whether his lordship was of the opinion that Shakespeare " was 
a clerk in an attorney's office in Stratford, before he joined the 
players in London % " This led to an answer by his lordship, 
under date of September 15, 1858, which shows a discovery of 
legal phrases and allusions in twenty-three of the thirty-seven 
Shakespeare plays ; and it is this amount of evidence which, 
(though it does not bring the learned replicant to an abso- 
lute conclusion) elicits from him the expression which I have 
already given. His lordship sets out in his response to Mr. 
Collier with, "I am obliged to say that, to the question you 
propound, no positive answer can very safely be given " ; but 
he adds that, " were an issue tried before me, as Chief Jus- 
tice, at the Warwick Assizes, whether William Shakespeare 
was ever clerk in an attorney's office, I should hold that there 
is evidence to go to the jury in support of the affirmative." 

His lordship, however, does not hesitate to declare, further 
on, that there is one piece of direct evidence, if not two, that 
Shakespeare had been so employed in Stratford ; and he is 
brought to this conclusion by libels which Greene and Nash, 
two jealous play-writing contemporaries, had made upon our 
poet in the preface to a work of Greene's, edited by Nash, and 
published in 1589. This preface, which I have already briefly 



9<D Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

noticed in Chapter IY, characterizes Shakespeare, though his 
name is not precisely mentioned, as " one of a sort of shifting 
companions that run through every art and thrive by none, to 
leave the trade of noverint whereto they were born . . . and 
who busy themselves with whole Hamlets of tragical speeches^ 
etc." The term noverint is recognized by Lord Campbell as 
indicating the business of an attorney in Shakespeare's time. 
Moreover, he believes that the expression of " whole Hamlets " 
is a distinct allusion to the great play of our poet, and that the 
epithet of Shake-scene, applied to him by Greene in a subse- 
quent libel, published in 1592, was an undoubted mimicry of 
Shakespeare's name. 

In view of this direct evidence, supported by the text, and 
by the general circumstances of the case, Lord Campbell closes 
his reply to Mr. Collier by saying : " Therefore, my dear Mr. 
Payne Collier, in support of your opinion that Shakespeare had 
been bred to the profession of the law in an attorney's office, I 
think you will be justified in saying that the fact was asserted 
publicly in Shakespeare's lifetime by two contemporaries of 
Shakespeare, who were engaged in the same pursuits with him- 
self, who must have known him well, and who were probably 
acquainted with the whole of his career, I must likewise admit 
that this assertion is strongly corroborated by internal evidence 
to be found in Shakespeare's writings. I have once more 
perused the whole of his dramas, that I might more satisfac- 
torily answer your question, and render you some assistance in 
finally coming to a right conclusion." 

Lord Campbell then goes on to produce his illustrations 
from the plays and sonnets attributed to Shakespeare, and I 
can not help remarking, that it would have been well for his 
lordship if he had exhibited as much good sense and judgment 
in his presentment of these extracts as he did in his decision of 
Mr. Collier's general question. Two or three examples will give 
an idea of his lordship's mode of reasoning, and of the sin- 
gular itch which, tarantula-like, seems to have bitten all the 
commentators with a sort of mad desire to prove Shakespeare 
to have been a miracle, in every specialty ; and this too often 
without either rhyme or reason. 

His lordship's first illustration of the depth of Shakespeare's 



Legal A cquirements of Shakespeare. 9 r 

legal lore is from the " Merry Wives of Windsor," and is as 
follows : 

Falstaff. Of what quality was your love, then ? 
Foed. Like a fair house built upon another man's ground ; so that I 
have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where I erected it. 

Probably not a single well-informed person in England or 
America does not know as much law as the above indicates — 
nay, does not even know that a nail driven by a tenant into 
the wall must remain with the realty — yet our learned Chief 
Justice thus discourses on it : 

" Now, this shows in Shakespeare a knowledge of the law 
of real property not generally possessed. The unlearned would 
suppose that, if, by mistake, a man builds a fine house on the 
land of another, when he discovers his error he will be per- 
mitted to remove all the materials of the structure, and 
particularly the marble pillars and carved chimney-pieces with 
which he has adorned it ; but Shakespeare knew better. He 
was aware that, being fixed to the freehold, the absolute 
property in them belonged to the owner of the soil." 

Again, his lordship remarks, as to "Measure for Meas- 
ure" : 

" In Act I, Scene 2, the old lady who had kept a lodging- 
house of disreputable character in the suburbs of Yienna, being 
thrown into despair by the proclamation that all such houses 
in the suburbs must be plucked down, the Clown thus com- 
forts her : 

Clown. Come; fear not you; good counsellors lack no clients. 

"This comparison," says Lord Campbell, "is not very flat- 
tering to the bar, but it seems to show a familiarity with both 
professions alluded to." 

A more natural observation upon this would be, that the 
Clown could hardly have made use of a more trite and ordinary 
proverb, in application to the subject, even if he had been a 
more profound person than a professional jester. 

But let us, at the present, go with his lordship one step 
farther. From " Macbeth " he quotes the lines : 

" But yet I'll make assurance doubly sure, 
And take a bond of fate. 17 



92 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

And this to prove Shakespeare to have been a lawyer ! 
Farther on his lordship takes the following couplet from 
" Venus and Adonis " to establish the same thing : 

"But when the heart's attorney once is mute, 
The client creaks as desperate in the suit." 

If this is fair evidence, and fair reasoning upon that evi- 
dence, to show Shakespeare to have been a lawyer, then/ 
certainly, Hamlet's direction to the players — 

"To hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature," 

would prove that Shakespeare must have been a looking-glass 
maker, or at least a dealer in that article ; or that these two 
lines of Faulconbridge, in " King John," which criticise the 
form of attack proposed by the French and Austrian divisions 
upon Angiers — 

" prudent discipline ! from north to south, 
Austria and France shoot in each other's mouths " — 

would prove Shakespeare to have been a soldier. 



fart It. 
THE TESTIMONY OF THE PLATS. 



11 The Tempest!' 95 



THE COMEDIES. 



CHAPTEE XII. 



We have now arrived at the most important branch of our 
inquiry; namely, at that by means of which Shakespeare may 
himself be "interviewed" through the testimony of his text. 
For this purpose I shall have to make liberal extracts from the 
plays, as on the faith of my opening declarations I shall not 
feel at liberty to omit any expression which may seem to bear 
upon the argument, whether it be for one side or the other, so 
that the reader may, without regard to my opinion, give judg- 
ment for himself. Indeed, if anything deemed pertinent shall 
chance to be left out, it will be because I have overlooked it ; 
and I will here avail myself of the opportunity to apologize 
again for the extent of the extracts which I have already made 
from the old biographers as to Shakespeare's supposed per- 
sonal history. Doubtless, these will be tiresome to scholars, 
to whom they are familiar, but I shall be excused when it is 
recollected that these extracts seemed necessary to substantiate 
my statements, while, for the convenience of the reader, it is 
perhaps better they should be in this book, ready to his hand, 
than be sought after in the public libraries. 

For convenience of examination, I shall take the dramas in 
the order in which they were first published in the original 
folio of 1623. This publication puts "The Tempest" first; 
but, instead of being one of Shakespeare's earliest plays, it was 



96 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

really one of his latest, for it was not produced, according to 
the best authorities, till 1612, only four years previous to our 
poet's death. 

There is little in " The Tempest " bearing upon the points 
that I have offered, though it will serve to present my view 
concerning the aristocratic class of personages chosen invariably 
by Shakespeare for his favorite characters, and the deferential 
distance he always places between these favorites of his muse 
and the " common " people. With this view, I will give the 
dramatis jpersonce, along with the first scene, in which most of 
the characters are introduced : 

Alonzo, King of Naples. 

Sebastian, his or other. 

Peospeeo, the rightful Duke of Milan. 

Antonio, Ms brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. 

Feedinand, son to the King of Naples. 

Gonzalo, an honest old counsellor of Naples. 

Adeian, Feanoisca, lords. 

Caliban, a savage and deformed slam. 

Teinottlo, a jester. 

Stephano, a drunken butler. 

Master of a Ship, Boatswain, and Mariners. 

Mieanda, daughter to Trospero. 

Aeiel, an airy spirit. 

Act I, Scene 1. 

On a Ship at Sea — A Storm with Thunder and Lightning. 

Enter Alonzo, Sebastian, Antonio, Feedinand, Gonzalo, and others. 

Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master? Play the 
men. 

Boats. I pray, now, keep below. 

Ant. "Where is the master, boatswain? 

Boats. Do you not hear him ? You mar our labor. Keep your cabins; 
you do assist the storm. 

Gon. Nay, good, be patient. 

Boats. When the sea is. Hence ! what care these roarers for the name 
of king ? To cabin ; silence ; trouble us not. 

Gon. Good ; yet remember whom thou hast aboard. 

Boats. None -that I more love than myself. You are a counsellor ; if 
you can command these elements to silence, and work the peace of the 
present, we will not hand a rope more ; use your authority. If you can- 
not, give thanks you have lived so long, and make yourself ready in your 



" The Tempest? 97 

cabin for the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerily, good hearts. — 
Out of our way, I say. {Exit. 

Gon. I have great comfort from this fellow; methinks he hath no 
drowning mark upon him ; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand fast, 
good fate, to his hanging ! Make the rope of his destiny our cable, for 
our own doth little advantage ! If he be not born to be hanged, our case 
is miserable. [Exeunt. 

Re-enter Boatswain. 

Boats. Down with the topmast ; yare ; lower, lower ; bring her to 
try with main course. [A cry within.] A plague upon this howling ! 
they are louder than the weather, or our office — 

Ee-enter Sebastian, Antonio, and Gonzalo. 
Yet again ? what do you do here ? Shall we give o'er, and drown ! Have 
you a mind to sink ! 

Ant. We are merely cheated of our lives by 

This wide-chapped rascal. Would thou mightst lie drowning, 
The washing of ten tides ! 
Gon. He'll be hanged yet ; 

Though every drop of water swear against it, 
And gape at wid'st to glut him. 
[A confused noise within.] Mercy on us ! We split ! we split ! Farewell, 
my wife and children! Farewell, brother! We split, we split, we split! 
Ant. Let's all sink with the king. [Exit. 

After this last touching evidence of loyalty, the storm sub- 
sides, and the parties distribute themselves about the island, 
on which they have been stranded, and upon which there are 
but three other persons — Prospero, Miranda, and Caliban. By 
the above it will be perceived that the Boatswain, who labors 
hard at his vocation, who speaks nothing but good sense, and 
who is doing his utmost to save the ship, is denounced as a cur 
and a rogue by the lords, simply because he ventures to remon- 
strate hastily with the gentlemen of the scene, for interfering 
with his imperative and vitally important duties. Further 
on, Shakespeare, in the character of Prospero, and evidently 
speaking in a tone he would have used for himself, directs 
Ariel to have the wandering ship's company brought together, 
in order to behold a masque of fairies, which he has prepared 
for the general entertainment. 

Peospeeo {to Ariel). Go bring the rabble, 

O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place I 

7 



98 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The rabble meaning, of course, the ship's company, and all of 
the dramatis personam who are not gentlemen. 

It would seem that the unvarying inclination which Shake- 
speare shows to belittle the laboring classes sprang from some 
notion in the poet's mind that he was a gentleman himself. 
This idea finds support in the fact that he could trace his 
name, on one side, to the battle of Hastings, and his ances- 
tors, on both sides, to the battle of Bosworth Field ; but m ore 
distinctly in the fact of his having laid out a considerable sum 
of money, after he had become rich by theatrical manage- 
ment, to purchase for his father a coat of arms. This gives a 
sharp point to the remark of Halliwell upon the death of John 
Shakespeare, that " it would have pleased us better had we 
found Shakespeare raising monuments to his parents in the 
venerable pile which now covers his own remains." The effort 
to have his father made " a gentleman of worship " supplies 
the key to the otherwise strange contradiction of his always 
being so bitterly derisive of " greasy mechanics," " woolen 
slaves," and " peasants," as he terms the masses from whose 
midst he sprang. New converts, as we know, are usually the 
most vehement denouncers of rejected associates and prin- 
ciples. 



It is agreed on all sides that the " Two Gentlemen of Ve- 
rona " was among the earliest of Shakespeare's dramatic com- 
positions, and some commentators think it was his very first 
play — "The Comedy of Errors" being, probably, his second. 
The " Two Gentlemen " did not reach the dignity of print, 
however, until the publication of the first general collection, 
known as the folio of 1623, seven years after Shakespeare's 
death. The reason why it was not placed first in the cata- 
logue, and the others made to follow, according to the supposed 
chronological order of their production, was doubtless because 
it was feared that this plan, by placing the weakest of our 
poet's productions at the front, might lessen the inclination of 
the reader to pursue the study further. Therefore, " The 
Tempest," one of his most highly finished works, was placed 
foremost, and the rest followed without order, so far at least 



" Two Gentlemen of Verona? 99 

as the comedies were concerned, with the view of giving a 
rapid exhibition of the writer's infinite variety. " But," says 
Knight, " there must have been years of labor before the genius 
that produced the ' Two Gentlemen of Yerona ' could have 
produced i The Tempest.' " In fact, it is so far below the mark 
of the latter magnificently worked out conception that many 
have seriously doubted the authenticity of the " Two Gentle- 
men " as a Shakespearean production ; while several critics of 
position, among whom are Hanmer, Theobald, and Upton, de- 
nounce the piece as spurious altogether. There can scarcely 
be a doubt, however (though Shakespeare can easily be con- 
victed of having adopted the story of the piece from others), 
that the text was all his own. Upon this question Dr. John- 
son very pertinently says, at the close of his dictum in favor 
of its authenticity as a Shakespeare play, " If it be taken from 
him, to whom shall it be given ? " The Doctor, in fixing the 
literary status of this work, continues : 

"In this play there is a strange mixture of knowledge 
and ignorance, of care and negligence. . . . The author con- 
veys his heroes by sea from one inland town to another in 
the same country ; he places the Emperor at Milan, and sends 
his young men to attend him, but never mentions him more. 
He makes Proteus, after an interview with Silvia, say he has 
only seen her picture ; and, if we may credit the old copies, 
he has, by mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable. The 
reason of all this confusion seems to be that he took his story 
from a novel, which he sometimes followed and sometimes 
forsook, sometimes remembered and sometimes forgot." " It 
has been well remarked that such historical and geographical 
blunders as these could hardly have been committed by Lord 
Bacon, even in his earliest youth. In all popular knowledge 
Shakespeare was a master. He does not err in his illustra- 
tions drawn from hunting and hawking and natural phenom- 
ena, or in such natural history as is learned from close obser- 
vation of the habits of animals. He blunders in things which 
could only have been derived from book-learning, in which 
Bacon excelled." x 

1 William H. Smith's "Inquiry," p. 101. London, 1857. 



ioo Shakespeare, from an American Point of View- 

These remarks lead us directly to the further observation 
that the production of the " Two Gentlemen," being generally- 
placed at the date of 1591, when Bacon was thirty-one years 
of age, could hardly have received these errors at his hands ; 
while the supposition that he could have permitted them to 
live under his eye, uncorrected, after the plays had attained 
the highest fame and the folio had gone through several edi- 
tions, is not entitled to a moment's entertainment.. If the 
play was thought worthy by Bacon of being put into Shake- 
speare's hands, for transcription and performance, it surely 
must have been thought deserving, after it had become part 
of a great fame, of being retouched by a few correctional 
notes. And these could have been as easily handed to Shake- 
speare as the original MSS., or have been sent to the publish- 
ers of the folio after Shakespeare's death ; for Bacon outlived 
Shakespeare long enough to know that the poet had already 
acquired a fame and received a homage from mankind which 
he, with all his triumphs in philosophy, could never hope to 
reach. The idea that Bacon, with his covetous imagination, 
could have been indifferent to such fame as this seems to be 
beyond all the bounds of reason ; while the notion that the 
mind which desired the production of the play would not have 
corrected its errors, after it had detected them, appears to be 
utterly absurd. In the first place, the experience of Bacon 
could not have made these errors ; but, admitting that they 
had escaped him originally, through the haste of writing, he 
must have detected them afterward, through the very necessi- 
ties of his local, legal, and political career. Indeed, if the 
" Two Gentlemen " is to be received as one of the Shakespeare 
plays, it seems to me that the whole Baconian theory falls at 
once. It is simply beyond the reach of belief (if the play 
were written by Bacon) that he never corrected it ; since we 
know, through Bacon's biographers, that, for greater accuracy, 
he frequently revised all his works, and transcribed his " No- 
vum Organum" twelve times. Shakespeare, on the other 
hand, as we have seen, was not only frequent with his errors, 
but cared never to correct them. 

The story of this play is very simple. Valentine and Pro- 
teus, who give title to the piece, and who are hardly more 



"Two Gentlemen of Verona? 101 

than boys, are scions of two wealthy and noble families of 
Yerona. The first act opens with the departure of the former 
on a traveling tour, by way of increasing his accomplish- 
ments, and on taking leave of Proteus (who, being in love, 
prefers to remain at home) he indulges in some smart reflec- 
tions on his friend's amorous infatuation. Presently the father 
of Proteus, having heard that Yalentine has gone abroad, de- 
clares his son shall improve himself in like manner ; and con- 
sequently, at one day's notice, and without giving him more 
than a bare opportunity to take a hasty leave of his sweetheart 
Julia, sends him also to the Emperor's (?) court. Before Pro- 
teus arrives there, however, the Emperor changes to a duke, 
but Yalentine has so well improved his time that he has suc- 
ceeded in making Silvia, the Duke's daughter, fall in love 
with him ; the only difficulty, however, being that Silvia 
stands engaged, by the Duke's special permission, to Sir Thurio, 
a very wealthy nobleman of his court. By and by Proteus 
appears, and he at once, forgetful of his vows to Julia and 
his duty to his friend, falls in love with Silvia himself. Nay, 
worse, though told by Yalentine, in the sacred confidence of 
friendship, that he and Silvia are on the eve of an elopement 
for the purpose of marriage, Proteus basely betrays this secret 
to the Duke, and seeks the ruin of his friend, in the hope of 
gaining ultimate possession of Silvia himself. The traitor 
justifies this shocking perfidy to Julia on the one hand, and to 
Yalentine on the other, in a soliloquy, in which occur these 
abominable lines : 

" Unheedful vows may needfully be broken ; 
And he wants wit that wants resolved will 
To learn bis wit to exchange the bad for better." 

Act II, Scene 6. 

The result of this villainy by Proteus is the banishment of 
Yalentine, who, falling in with a band of outlaws, is made 
their captain, while Silvia, rendered desperate by her misfor- 
tunes, and spurning the false love of Proteus, escapes to a 
neigh boring forest, under the protection of a gentleman named 
Sir Eglamour. With him she appoints a rendezvous — to use 
her own devout language — 



102 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

"At friar Patrick's cell, 
Where I intend holy confession." 

News of her flight, in company with Egl amour, is soon 
brought to the Duke, and he informs Proteus of it as follows : 

Duke. She's fled nnto that peasant Valentine ; 
And Eglamour is in her company. 
'Tis true; for friar Lawrence met them both, 
As he in penance wandered through the forest : 
Him, he knew well, and guess'd that it was she ; 
But, being mask'd, he was not sure of it : 
Besides, she did intend confession 
At Patrick's cell this even ; and there she was not. 

Here we find united evidences of that unvarying Catholic 
reverence which Shakespeare always expresses when speaking 
of a priest ; and likewise of that scorn for humble life which 
I have pointed out as another of his peculiarities, in the op- 
probrious use he makes of the word peasant, by applying it as 
an epithet of derogation to the well-born Yalentine. Proteus 
has previously used the same epithet to the servant Launce. 

But to return to the story. Proteus, having obtained 
from the Duke the direction of Silvia's flight and of his in- 
tention to pursue her, takes with him his page, Sebastian 
(Julia), and hastens to the forest, with the view of anticipating 
the Duke, and of obtaining possession of her for himself in 
advance of her father's arrival. It appears, however, that, 
before Proteus gets to the forest with his party, a portion of 
the outlaws capture Silvia — Sir Eglamour, her escort, pru- 
dently running away. Her deplorable situation then is thus 
described by our poet : 

Act V, Scene S.—The Forest. 
Enter Silvia and Outlaws. 
Out. Come, come; 

Be patient, we must bring you to our captain. 
Sil. A thousand more mischances than this one 
Have learn'd me how to brook this patiently. 

2 Out. Come, bring her away. 

1 Out. "Where is the gentleman that was with her I 

3 Out. Being nimble-footed, he hath outrun us, 

But Moyses and Valerius follow him. 



" Two Gentlemen of Verona? 103 

Gq thou with her to the west end of the wood, 

There is our captain ; we'll follow him that's fled. 

The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape. 
1 Out. Come, I must bring you to our captain's cave ; 

Fear not : he bears an honourable mind, 

And will not use a woman lawlessly. 
Sil. Valentine, this I endure for thee. [Exeunt. 

The scene then shifts, and shows Valentine, alone, in an- 
other part of the forest. He is in a sad mood, and utters a 
long soliloquy, when, being disturbed by the sound of a noisy 
conflict (that turns out to be the rescue of Silvia from the out- 
laws by Proteus and his party), he utters these lines : 

" These are my mates, that make their will their law, 
Have some unhappy passenger in chase ; 
They love me well ; yet I have much to do, 
To Tceep them from uncivil outrages. 

Withdraw thee, Valentine ; who's this comes here ? [Steps aside. 1 '' 
Enter Peoteus, Silvia, and Julia. 

It must now be mentioned that Julia, the betrothed of 
Proteus, not having heard from her false lover for a long 
while, had some time before left Verona disguised as a page, 
and had succeeded in entering the service of Proteus under 
the name of Sebastian, in which character she now accompa- 
nies him. With this explanation, and with Valentine listen- 
ing in the thicket, we will return to the text. 

Peo. (to Silvia). Madam, this service I have done for you 

(Though you respect not aught your servant doth), 

To hazard life, and rescue you from him 

That would have forced your honor and your love. 

Vouchsafe me, for my meed, but one fair look ; 

A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, 

And less than this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
Val. (from his concealment). How like a dream is this I see and hear; 

Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. 
Sil. O miserable, unhappy that I am ! 
Peo. Unhappy were you, madam, ere I came ; 

But, by my coming, I have made you happy. 
Sil. By thy approach thou mak'st me most unhappy. 
Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your presence. [Aside. 

Sil. Had I been seized by a hungry lion, 

I would have been a breakfast to the beast, 



104 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Bather than have false Proteus rescue me. 

Heaven he judge, how I love Valentine, 
Whose life's as tender to me as my soul ; 
And full as much (for more there can not be), 

1 do detest false, perjured Proteus : 
Therefore, begone ; solicit me no more. 

Peo. Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words 

Can no way change you to a milder form, 

I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end : 

And love you 'gainst the nature of love— -force you. 
Sil. Heaven ! 

Peo. F 11 force thee yield to my desire. 

Val. (discovering himself). Euffian, let go that rude uncivil touch; 

Thou friend of an ill fashion ! 
Peo. Valentine ! 

Val. Thou common friend, that's without faith or love; 

(For such is a friend now ;) treacherous man ! 

Thou hast beguiled my hopes ; nought but mine eye 

Could have persuaded me : Now I dare not say, 

I have one friend alive ; thou would'st disprove me. 

Who should be trusted now, when one's right hand 

Is perjured to the bosom ? Proteus, 

I am sorry I must never trust thee more, 

But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 

The private wound is deepest. O time, most curst ; 

'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the worst. 
Peo. My shame and guilt confound me — 

Forgive me, Valentine ; if hearty sorrow 

Be a sufficient ransom for offence, 

I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer 

As e'er I did commit. 
Val. Then I am paid: 

And once again I do receive thee honest ; 

Who by repentance is not satisfied, 

Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are pleased ; 

By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeased: 

And, that my love may appear plain and free, 

All that was mine in Silvia I give thee. 
Jul. O me unhappy! [Faints. 

Peo. Look to the boy. 

Julia is then discovered. ]STo wonder that she fainted under 
the indescribable poltroonery and baseness of Valentine in 
resigning the devoted and heroic Silvia to the villain Proteus, 



"Two Gentlemen of Verona! 1 105 

because the latter, under a sense of policy and fear, expressed 
sudden contrition for his execrable perfidy. Proteus, how- 
ever, does not think it prudent to accept Silvia under such an 
offer from the chief of a band of outlaws ; so he makes a vir- 
tue of necessity by renewing his fealty to Julia in about six 
lines. Whereupon Yalentine, finding that Proteus declines 
to receive Silvia at his hands, makes the original lovers happy 
by joining them together. 

Peo. O Heaven ! were man 

But constant, he were perfect ; that one error 

Fills him with faults ; makes him run through all sins : 

Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins: 

What is in Silvia's face, but I may spy 

More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye? 
Val. Come, come, a hand from either : 

Let me be blest to make this happy close ; 

'Twere pity two such friends should be long foes. 
Peo. Bear witness, Heaven, I have my wish for ever. 
Jul. And I have mine. 

Everything being thus amicably settled, it unfortunately 
happens that those incorrigible fellows, the outlaws, suddenly 
turn up again in another act of villainy. 

Enter Outlaws, with the Duke and Thueio. 
Outlaw. A prize, a prize, a prize ! 

Val. Forbear, forbear, I say; it is my lord the Duke, 

Your grace is welcome to a man disgraced. 

Thurio, hereupon discovering Silvia, at once lays claim to 

her, but Yalentine, who has suddenly recovered his affection 

also, threatens him with instant death if he dare " take but 

possession of her with a touch," concluding his fiery menace 

with — 

" I dare thee but to breathe upon my love! " 

Thurio, of course, gives Silvia up ; upon which the Duke, 
in disgust with his cowardice, denounces him as base and 
degenerate, and magnanimously hands Silvia over to Sir Yal- 
entine. Then follows the climax, in the following sudden 
conversions to morality, on the part of the brigands, whose 
miraculous repentance at once receives a reward which elicits 
our amazement : 



106 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Val. I thank your grace : the gift hath made me happy. 

I now beseech you, /or your daughters sake, 

To grant one boon that I shall ask of you. 
Duke. I grant it for thine own, whate'er it be. 
Val. These banish'd men, that I have kept withal, 

Are men endued with worthy qualities ; 

Forgive them what they have committed here, 

And let them be recall'd from their exile. 

They are reformed, civil, full of good, 

And fit for great employment, worthy lord. 
Duke. Thou hast prevail'd ; I pardon them, and thee : 

Dispose of them as thou Tcnowest their deserts. 

Come, let us go : we will conclude all jars 

"With triumphs, mirth, and rare solemnity. 

Now, as Yalentine represents these outlaws (who had 
given him so much to do to keep them from uncivil outrage) 
to be men endued with worthy qualities, and declares them to 
be not only "reformed, civil, and good," but "fit for great 
employment," the carte blanche which the Duke gives to him 
to " dispose of them " as he " know'st their deserts," can 
hardly mean less than the appointment of them to positions 
under G-overnment. A fine request, truly, to make for Sil- 
via's sake, who had been rudely captured by these thieves ; 
and for a father to make, who had himself just escaped from 
their attempt to rifle and, perhaps, to murder him. And, in 
order to make sure that these lawless rascals would have not 
hesitated, because of any qualms of conscience, to have had 
recourse to the latter extremity, the reader has only to turn 
to their own description of themselves at the opening of Act 
IY, when they chose Yalentine to be their captain. But it is 
no portion of my task to show the contradictions and incon- 
gruities of Shakespeare, except when they bear upon the 
points we have in hand ; and I have, therefore, but to say, in 
excuse for the extent of my extracts from the " Two Gentle- 
men," that the numerous absurdities they exhibit against our 
poet do not seem to be the logical product of the mind of 
such an exact lawyer, statesman, and philosopher as Bacon. 



"The Merry Wives of Windsor? 107 



CHAPTER XIII. 



The events of this play are supposed to take place between 
the First and Second Parts of a Henry IV." Falstaff is still 
in favor at court, and the compliment of Ford on his warlike 
preparations must, says Mr. Harness, allude to the service he 
had done at Shrewsbury. Shallow, Bardolph, Pistol, and Nym 
are the same as in the former plays, though it is evident that 
Mrs. Quickly, the servant of Dr. Caius, the French physician, 
is quite a different person from Hostess Quickly of the Boar's 
Head, in Eastcheap, who subsequently married Ancient Pistol. 
The tradition respecting the origin of this comedy is that 
Queen Elizabeth was so well pleased with the admirable char- 
acter of Falstaff that she ordered Shakespeare to continue it 
and show him in love. To this we owe " The Merry Wives of 
Windsor " ; and, says Mr. Dennis, who in 1702 somewhat re- 
arranged the play under the title of " The Comical Gallant," 
" she was so eager to see it acted that she commanded it to be 
finished 1 in fourteen days." Tradition further says that she 
was exceedingly pleased at its representation. All of which, 
if true, must convince the thoughtful reader who has perused 
the delectable dialogues between Doll Tearsheet and Sir John 
and the free language of " The Merry Wives," that the charm 
exercised over her Majesty by such very broad allusions proves 
her to have been a true daughter of Henry VIII. Let me be 
excused, therefore, if I quote a supporting picture of her Ma- 

1 This does not make it absolute that the entire play was written in 
fourteen days. The greater part might have for a long time been ready. 



io8 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

jesty by Edward Dowden, LL. D., Professor of English Litera- 
ture to the University of Dublin and Yice-President of the 
new Shakespeare Society, from an admirable volume, entitled 
" A Critical Study of Shakespeare's Mind and Art," which 
has just (1875) been issued from the London press: 

"Kaleigh rode by the queen in silver armor; the Jesuit Drexilius esti- 
mated the value of the shoes worn by this minion of the English Cleopatra 
at six thousand six hundred gold pieces." 

ISTow, as Professor Dowden is a devout member of the 
political Anglican Church, a very learned man withal, and 
knows exactly what he is writing about, I trust this allusion 
of his to the possible moral status of the virgin queen will 
not be deemed scandalous or irreverent on my part. 

" The Merry Wives of Windsor " is deserving of especial 
notice from the fact that it is the only one of Shakespeare's 
plays the superior action of which is not devoted to kings and 
queens and princes and nobles, but confines itself wholly to 
the ordinary characters of homely or middle life. It exhibits 
its relations to our religious theory mainly in the gross ridicule 
which it lavishes upon the Welsh parson, Sir Hugh Evans, and 
the fecundity, not to say feculence, of the tavern wit which 
flows from Falstaff and his mates with a readiness which does 
not seem peculiarly Baconian. 

Sir Hugh, who is hardly a degree above a mere buffoon, de- 
clares his sacred calling in the first scene by saying to Shallow, 
"If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto 
you, I am of the Church, and will be glad to do my benevo- 
lence, to make my atonements and compromises between you." 
Further on he is made to profanely say, " The tevil and his 
tarn ! what phrase is this ? " He is next engaged in a duel 
with a French doctor, in order that he may become the butt 
and laughter of the company, and then makes his appearance 
in a tavern, with the noisy, vulgar host of which he shows 
himself to be thoroughly cheek by jowl. Shakespeare never 
treats a Catholic priest after this irreverent and unseemly 
fashion. 

There is not much more to be said of this play from our 
point of view, save that Falstaff uses the term of peasant in 



"The Merry Wives of Windsor? 109 

the sense of cur against Ford, whose jealousy is filling his 
purse ; or perhaps to notice one further of Lord Chief Justice 
Campbell's proofs of Shakespeare's legal acquirements, in ad- 
dition to the one quoted from the same authority in the last 
chapter. 

" In writing the second scene of Act IY of ' The Merry 
Wives of Windsor,'" says Lord Campbell, "Shakespeare's 
head was so full of the recondite terms of law that he makes 
a lady thus pour them out in a confidential tete-a-tete conversa- 
tion with another lady, while discoursing of the revenge they 
two should take upon an old gentleman (Falstaff) for having 
made an unsuccessful attempt upon their virtue : 

Mks. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallowed, and hung o'er the altar; 
it hath done meritorious service. 

Mks. Foed. What think you ? May we, with the warrant of woman- 
hood, and the witness of a good conscience, pursue him with any farther 
revenge ? 

Mks. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of him ; if 
the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, 
I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again. 

" This Merry Wife of Windsor," remarks his lordship, " is 
supposed to know that the highest estate which the devil 
could hold in any of his victims was a fee-simple, strengthened 
by fine and recovery. Shakespeare himself may probably 
have become aware of the law upon this subject when it was 
explained to him in answer to questions he put to the attor- 
ney, his master, while engrossing the deeds to be executed 
upon the purchase of a Warwickshire estate with a doubtful 
title." a 

Now, for my own part, I have no doubt that Shakespeare 
might have acquired as much legal knowledge as the above 
indicates, through his own purchases of land. Fine and re- 
covery, as an artifice for perfecting title to land, was in policy 
like to the legislative stratagem known to modern times as a 
motion to reconsider, accompanied by a supplementary motion 
to lay on the table, on the part of a majority who have just 
carried a bill. The effect of this device is, that the bill is thus 
made reasonably safe from further peril. 

2 Lord Campbell, pp. 40, 41. 



1 10 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



The date of the production of this fine play is fixed by 
Purnival, 3 in his " Trial Table of the Order of William Shakes- 
peare's Plays," at 1603, when our poet was forty years of age. 
It was performed, says Gervinus, in 1604, but not published 
until 1623. Dr. Johnson speaks of its merits with such indif- 
ference that it would almost seem as if he had never read it ; 
while to other critics it is on a level, so far as the intellectual 
elevation of its language and imagery are concerned, with the 
very finest productions of Shakespeare's genius. To my judg- 
ment its moral management is faulty, and the great principle 
of retributive justice is sadly sacrificed to a weak fancy for 
forgiveness ; but nothing can excel the exquisite delicacy, 
combined with the tremendous illustrative force, of the lan- 
guage allotted to Isabella, who is the main figure in the piece. 

The plot was familiar even before Shakespeare's time, but 
he undoubtedly adopted it from Whetstone's play of " Promos 
and Cassandra," published in 1578, which had no success, and 
which was itself translated from an Italian novel by G-eraldi 
Cinthio. The main story is that of a pure, conventual sister 
pleading to a corrupt judge for a condemned brother's life, 
which sister is allowed to ransom his existence only by a prom- 
ised surrender of her chastity to that functionary. The judge, 
nevertheless, orders the execution of the brother to take place, 
for fear he may seek revenge for " so receiving a dishonored 
life." This is the original story ; but Shakespeare changes it, 
so that Isabella, the sister, when her honor is at its crisis, 
sends a female representative, in the undistinguishing dark- 
ness of the night, to perform her expected part with the judge, 
and thus herself escapes all taint. To justify her pure mind 
to the pursuance of this double course, Isabella acts under the 
direction of a holy friar, who provides, as her nocturnal sub- 
stitute, a maiden under betrothal to Lord Angelo, the judge. 
The real duke is the disguised friar who counsels Isabella to 
this act, and who, when he finds that Angelo, his deputy, still 

3 Mr. Furnival is the Director of the new Shakespeare Society of Lon- 
don. 



"Measure for Measure? 1 1 1 

orders the sentence of death to be carried out against Claudio, 
the brother, privately interposes his authority with the prison 
officials, and sends to Angelo the head of a man who had that 
day died in his cell as Claudio 's head. The severed head de- 
ceives Angelo and Isabella both ; whereupon the agonized and 
desperate girl bursts into threats of personal vengeance on 
the villainous deputy, and is about starting off to execute 
them, when the friar appears, informs her that the real duke 
comes home on the morrow, and advises her to intercept him, 
along with her friend Mariana, on his public entrance to the 
city, and then to conspicuously lay their wrongs before him, 
in the very presence of Lord Angelo. 

This advice is followed by Isabella and Mariana, and as 
the Duke enters the city, surrounded by his nobles, the young 
ladies cast themselves before him, and, denouncing Angelo, 
demand justice upon him. 

Duke. Kelate your wrongs : In what ? By whom ? Be brief : 
Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice ! 
Eeveal yourselves to him. 

Isab. 0, worthy duke, 

You bid me seek redemption of the devil : 
Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak 
Must either punish me, not being believed, 
Or wring redress from you : hear me, O, hear me, here. 

Ang-. My lords, her wits, I fear me, are not firm : 
She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, 
Out off by course of justice ! 

Isab. By course of justice ! 

Ang. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange. 

Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak : 
'That Angelo's forsworn ; is it not strange? 
That Angelo's a murderer ; is it not strange ? 
That Angelo is an adulterous thief, 
An hypocrite, a virgin- violator ; 
Is it not strange, and strange ? 

Duke. Nay, ten times strange. 

The Duke affects to disbelieve Isabella, and orders her off 
to prison. Mariana is then required to tell her story. She 
thereupon recites her betrothal to Angelo, his abandonment 
of her because of the failure of her fortune, and finally the 
consummation of her betrothal by keeping Isabella's appoint- 



112 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

ment with the deputy in the dark. Finally, unveiling, Ma- 
riana shows her face to Angelo, and claims to be his wife. 
The Duke hereupon demands of Angelo if he knows this 
woman. 

Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this woman ; 

And, five years since, there was some speech of marriage 

Betwixt myself and her ; which was broke off, 

Partly, for that her promised proportions 

Came short of composition ; out, in chief, 

For that her reputation was disvalued 

In levity : since which time of five years 

I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, 

Upon my faith and honor. 

Maei. Noble prince, 

As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath, 

As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, 

I am affianced this man's wife, as strongly 

As words could make up vows : and, my good lord, 

But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden-house ( 

He knew me as a wife: As this is true 

Let me in safety raise me from my knees ; 

Or else forever be confixed here, 

A marble monument ! 

Ano. I did but smile till now ; 

Uow, my good lord, give me the scope of justice ; 
My patience here is touched : I do perceive, 
These poor informal women are no more 
But instruments of some more mightier member 
That sets them on : Let me have way, my lord, 
To find this practice out. 

Duke. Ay, with all my heart ; 

And punish them unto your height of pleasure. 

The Duke now goes out on some pretence, but really to 
resume his friar's habit. At the same time, from the other 
side of the stage, but still in the custody of officers, again 
comes Isabella. Angelo, on the exit of the Duke, had at 
once resumed all his former arrogance, and as soon as he 
sets eyes upon the returning friar, through whose art he has 
suffered so much trouble, he assumes a lofty tone, and orders 
him to be arrested. The Duke, thus hustled by the officers, 
is discovered under the friar's cowl. He at once resumes his 
regal dignity, and waives Angelo from the ducal seat. 



"Measure for Measure? 1 1 3 

Duke, {to Angelo). Sir, by your leave : 

Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, 

That yet can do thee office ? If thou hast, 

Eely upon it till my tale be heard, 

And hold no longer out. 
Ang. my dread lord, 

I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, 

To think I can be undiscernible, 

"When I perceive your grace, like power divine, 

Hath look'd upon my passes ; then, good prince, 

No longer session hold upon my shame, 

But let my trial be my own confession, 

Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, 

Is all the grace I beg. 
Duke. Come hither, Mariana : 

Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? 
Ang. I was, my lord. 
Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. — 

Do you the office, friar ; which consummate, 

Keturn him here again : — Go with him, provost. 

[Exeunt Angelo, Maeiana, Feiae Petee, and Provost, 
Duke. Come hither, Isabel : 

Your friar is now your prince : As I was then 
Advertising, and holy to your business, 
Not changing heart with habit, I am still 
Attorney'd at your service. 

Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Feiae Petee, and Provost. 
Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here, 

"Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd 

Your well-defended honour, you must pardon 

For Mariana's sake : but as he adjudged your brother, 

(Being criminal, in double violation 

Of sacred chastity and of promise breach, 

Thereon dependent, for your brother's life), 

The very mercy of the law cries out 

Most audible, even from his proper tongue, 

An Angelo for Claudio, death for death. 

Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; 

Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure. 

Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; 

Which, though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage; 

We do condemn thee to the very block 

Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste ; 

Away with him. 
8 



ii4 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Maei. 0, my most gracious lord, 

I hope you will not mock me with a husband ! 

Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband; 
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, 
I thought your marriage fit ; else imputation 
For that he knew you, might reproach your life, 
And choke your good to come ; for his possessions, 
Although by confiscation they are ours, 
We do instate and widow you withal, 
To buy you a better husband. 

Mariana hereupon entreats Isabella to help her beg of the 
Duke the life of Angelo ; but the Duke checks the movement 
by the following sublime rebuke : 

Duke. Against all sense do you importune her. 

Should she kneel down in mercy, of this fact, 
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, 
And take her hence in horror. 

Mariana, nevertheless, perseveres, and Isabella again falls 
upon her knees before the Duke. 

Duke. Your suit's unprofitable : stand up, I say — 
I have bethought me of another fault : — 
Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded 
At an unusual hour ? 

Claudio then appears, is pardoned and handed over to 
Isabella, whereupon the all-forgiving Duke thus winds up the 
situation with one general joy : 

Duke. And, for your lovely sake, 

Give me your hand, and say you will be mine, 
He is my brother too : But fitter time for that. 
By this, lord Angelo perceives he's safe ; 
Methinks, I see a quickening in his eye : — 
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well : 
Look that you love your wife ; her worth, worth yours. 
I find an apt remission in myself. 

It is hardly possible for language to picture a more base, 
criminal, unpitying miscreant than Angelo. To the last mo- 
ment, even in the presence of the Duke, he maintains his vil- 
lainy by misrepresenting Isabella, and by relentlessly defam- 
ing the character of Mariana. In fact, he does not cease to 



"Measure for Measure? 115 

lie against them both ; and when he is actually unmasked be- 
yond all remedy, like Proteus, he suddenly confesses, and, 
as every reader must regret, is as readily forgiven. In this re- 
spect, the moral of the play is as deplorable as that of the 
" Two Gentlemen of Yerona," and, through its utter defeat 
of the principle of retributive justice, could hardly have been 
the inspiration of such a thorough lawyer as Lord Bacon. To 
Shakespeare, however, a big-natured, good-tempered man, 
with a prodigious and sympathetic genius, but scarcely any 
conscience, this pleasant rounding of the whole story was a 
natural inclination. By following this course, which, it may 
be remarked, was usual with our. poet in the earlier part of his 
career (indeed, till the period of his deepest tragedies), he ob- 
tained his reputation for an unruffled serenity of character. 
It may also be observed that, in preferring these happy termi- 
nations, Shakespeare evinces one form of the art of theatrical 
management by sending his audiences home well pleased, 
thus unconsciously testifying to the tender and generous 
nature of the common people. 

But something, at the same time, let me add, is due to the 
principle of justice; and there can be no doubt that Coleridge 
is right when he says " that sincere repentance on the part of 
Angelo was impossible," and therefore regrets that the un- 
paralleled villain was not executed. But Gervinus finds ex- 
cuse for the mercy of the Duke in the fact that, " apart from 
poetry," such a doom would not have been in strict conformity 
with either law or justice. Gervinus's position is, that An- 
gelo's double crime — the intended disgrace of Isabella and the 
death of Claudio — had not been consummated, and that he 
had been consequently guilty only in intent. But this argu- 
ment is specious and does not justify his pardon, for Angelo 
had executed Claudio as far as his bloody and merciless pur- 
pose could do so, and had been guilty with Mariana, the very 
act for which, under the statutes of Yienna, Claudio had been 
condemned. Nevertheless, it must be admitted that the pen- 
alty for this last particular offense could hardly have been 
ordered by the Duke, who, in the habit of a friar, had advised 
it. Kegarding the play as a whole, however, we may safely 
conclude that it does not inculcate either statesmanship or 



n6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

law ; at any rate, not such statesmanship or logical exactitude 
as might be expected to make their development from the 
mind of Sir Francis Bacon. This is mainly the reason why 
I have quoted so largely from " Measure for Measure." 

I may here observe, I find but one instance in this play 
bearing upon Shakespeare's low estimate of the people ; and 
that occurs in the first scene of the first act, when the Duke 
is about going into retirement, or, to speak more strictly, 
when he is about assuming his incognito, under the name of 
Friar Lodewick : 

Duke. I love the people, 

But do not love to stage me to their eyes. 
Though it do well, I do not relish well 
Their loud applause and aves vehement. 

But this is only a just sneer at popular servility, especially as 
it must have shown itself to him. 

Shakespeare's Law. 
I. 

Lord Campbell, in connection with this play, examining the 
legal acquirements of Shakespeare, presents three instances, 
which he considers rather as affirmative. One of these was 
treated in Chapter IX, and consisted of the line " good coun- 
sellors need no clients " ; the other two are as follows : 

II. 

" In Act II, Scene 1," says his Lordship, " the ignorance 
of special pleading and of the nature of actions at law be- 
trayed by Elbow, the constable, when slandered, is ridiculed 
by the Lord Escalus in a manner which proves that the com- 
poser of the dialogue was himself fully initiated in these 
mysteries " : 

Elbow. Oh, thou caitiff! Oh, thou varlet! Oh, thou wicked Hanni- 
bal! /respected with her, before I was married to her? — If ever I was 
respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the 
poor duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine 
action of battery on thee. 



"Measure for Measure" 1 1 7 

Escal. If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your action of 
slander too. 

III. 

" The manner in which, in Act III, Scene 2, Escalus desig- 
nates and talks of Angelo, with whom he was joined in com- 
mission as judge, is," continues Lord Campbell, " so like the 
manner in which one English judge designates and talks of 
another, that it countenances the supposition that Shakespeare 
may often, as an attorney's clerk, have been in the presence 
of English judges " : 

Esoal. Provost, my brother Angelo will Dot be altered; Olaudio must 
die to-morrow. ... If my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be 
so with him. ... I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest 
shore of my modesty ; but my brother justice have I found so severe, that 
he hath forced me to tell him that he is indeed Justice. 

I do not think that Lord Chief Justice Campbell has done 
himself much credit by citing these three cases in proof of 
Shakespeare's law learning. 4 

But the great figure in the play, the figure which stands 
in towering dignity and purity and beauty above all others, 
and above all other of Shakespeare's women, is Isabella, the 
nun, or, rather, the young novitiate of the convent of St. 
Clare. It seems to me that, if our poet had any method, be- 
yond the mere usual waywardness of his plots, it was his ob- 
ject in this play to develop, through the characters of Isabella 
and the Duke, his views of the beautiful philosophy of the 
Catholic religion. In his portraiture of the villain Angelo, 
he, on the other hand, paints a perfect picture of Puritan 
hypocrisy. 

Lord Angelo is precise ; 
Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses 
That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
Is more to bread than stone. 

And this oblique sarcasm against the Puritans is again re- 
peated, remarks Dr. Farmer in the Constable's account of 
Master Froth and the Clown : " Precise villains they are, that 

4 Lord Campbell, pp. 42, 43. 



1 1 8 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world that 
good Christians ought to have." 

The opening of " Measure for Measure " finds Isabella un- 
dergoing her religious probation in that tranquil half-way 
house upon the road to heaven, the convent of St. Clare. She 
is conversing sweetly with the nuns upon the sacred mysteries 
that are just unfolding to her virgin comprehension when she 
is suddenly interrupted by a rude clangor at the convent gate. 
This comes to summon her back to the stirring world in order 
that she may contemplate a gross offense and make solicita- 
tion of the newly-appointed deputy for her brother's life. 
She can not choose but yield to the appeal ; but, going out,, 
never comes back, having learned " that in the world may be 
found a discipline more strict, more awful than the discipline of 
the convent ; having also learned that the world has need of 
her : that her life is still a consecrated life, and that the vital 
energy of her heart can exert and augment itself as Duchess 
of Vienna more fully than in conventual seclusion." B In 
speaking of " Measure for Measure," Drake says that " the 
great charm of the play springs from the lovely example of 
female excellence exhibited in the person of Isabella. Piety, 
spotless purity, tenderness combined with firmness, and an 
eloquence most persuasive, unite to render her singularly in- 
teresting and attractive. C'est un ange de lumiere sous Vhum- 
Me habit Wune novice. To save the life of her brother she 
hastens to quit the peaceful seclusion of her convent, and 
moves amid the votaries of corruption and hypocrisy, amid the 
sensual, the vulgar, and the profligate, as a being of a higher 
order, as a ministering spirit from the throne of grace." 

Knight, in alluding to Isabella, says that " the foundation 
of her character is religion. Out of that sacred source springs 
her humility ; her purity, which can not understand oblique 
purposes and suggestions ; her courage ; her passionate indig- 
nation at the selfishness of her brother, who would have sacri- 
ficed her to attain his own safety. It is in the conception of 
such a character that we see the transcendent superiority of 
Shakespeare over other dramatists. The ' thing enskied and 

5 Dowden's "Mind and Art of Shakespeare," pp. 83, 84, 



"Measure for Measure? 119 

sainted ' was not for any of his greatest contemporaries to con- 
ceive and delineate." 

And yet, Shakespeare made this female masterpiece — this 
religious paragon, this beau ideal of his genius — a nun ; and, 
while escorting her with solemn dignity throughout her scenes, 
he commands silence and bent heads for every allusion to the 
Latin faith. In comment upon this fact, it may be remarked 
that, if a mere playwright might venture upon such develop- 
ments of Catholic saintliness in the midst of a Puritan age, 
Bacon could hardly have feared loss of favor with Elizabeth 
or James by openly claiming the authorship of the Shake- 
speare plays himself. 



120 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER XIY. 



The date of this play is put down in Furnival's Table at 
1589-91, but it was not published until the appearance of the 
folio of 1623. It is mentioned in a work by Francis Meares in 
1598, and was performed at Court in December, 1604, before 
King James. 

The story of the piece is taken from the " Mensechmi " of 
Plautus, the old Roman dramatist, though it differs from that 
production to the extent of adding to the two twin Antipho- 
luses of the Roman play two twin Dromios also. 

It has been generally observed that Shakespeare exhibits a 
perfect indifference about the origin of the plots of his plays. 
He adopts without scruple any fable he can lay hands upon, 
and appears to be governed entirely in the composition of his 
pieces by the aim of making a production which will be amus- 
ing to his audiences. In fact, he clearly and properly disdains 
narrative as the lowest form of composition, and seems always 
willing to allow any one to help him to his story. It is his 
task to raise the structure after others have lined the form and 
sunk the foundation ; to enlarge it by the expanding pressure 
of his mind, and embroider the surface with his matchless 
imagery. Even a ballad was quite enough for him to build 
upon ; for there is no end either to the resources of his inven- 
tion or the productiveness of his fancy. Indeed, every writer 
of any imagination knows for himself that a tale once begun 
may be reeled off with undisturbed facility ; or, to use Shake- 
speare's own language in Falstaff, may be continued on " as 
easy as lying." Witness, in evidence of this, the prolific ro- 
mance department in the thousand and one of modern weekly 
newspapers. 



" Comedy of Errors? 121 

The ei Comedy of Errors " bears evidence of having been 
hastily and carelessly written. It is full of anachronisms and 
of geographical contradictions, and, though laid in the old 
Homan days, it has allusions to undiscovered America and 
the Indies ; while one of the Dromios calls his female kitchen- 
friends in the city of Ephesus by the broad English, Irish, and 
Scotch names of " Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, and 
Jen." 

The plot of the play and its staring absurdities make an 
absolute mockery of the fine speculations which the German 
critics are so fond of indulging in as to the profound theories 
which Shakespeare always intended to convey through his 
plays, for the instruction of mankind. Here we have him 
presenting two couples of men, who have been living apart 
from each other in strange countries for nearly thirty years — 
who, if they do look alike, must necessarily bear themselves 
differently, talk differently, walk differently, and dress differ- 
ently — and these, he asks us to believe, succeed in deceiving 
everybody as to their separate identity, and even in baffling 
the familiar scrutiny of their wives and mistresses ! In my 
opinion, a writer, when thus careless of congruities, and who 
presents his themes without any regard to the possibilities of 
human belief, is not engaged in the task of giving abstruse 
lessons in philosophy, but simply in making fun. The legal 
lore of the play, moreover, however much it may impress 
Lord Chief Justice Campbell, seems to me to be actually law 
run mad. Creditors commence process against debtors before 
common constables, in the street, by word of mouth, and the 
constable, upon receiving a money fee from the plaintiff, issues 
process of arrest out of hand, and discharges the debtor with 
equal readiness upon having the judgment satisfied with cash, 
thus excusing all function from the court. 

Act IV, Scene 1. — Ephesus. 
Antipholtjs and Deomio, of Ephesus ; a Merchant; Ang-elo, a Gold- 
smith ; and an Officer. 
Meeoh. (pointing to Antipholtjs of E., whom he charges with owing 
him the price of a gold chain). 

Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. 
Off. I do; and charge you in the duke's name, to obey me. 



122 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Ang. This touches me in reputation : — ■ 

Either consent to pay this sum to me, 

Or I attach you by this officer. 
Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never had I 

Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou dar'st. 
Ano. Here is thy fee ; arrest him, officer ; — 

I would not spare my brother in this case, 

If he should scorn me so apparently, 
Off. I do arrest you, sir ; you hear the suit. 
Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail : — 

But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear 

As all the metal in your shop will answer. 

Nevertheless Lord Chief Justice Campbell discovers sev- 
eral evidences in this play of Shakespeare's knowledge of law. 
He finds, in Act II, Scene 2, another allusion to "fine and re- 
covery " / in Act IV, Scene 2, he detects more law in Dromio's 
description of the above arrest of his master in his use of the 
phrases of " before the judgment" and " rested on the case" 
further explaining that he has been arrested on a bond ; yet 
" not on a bond, but on a stronger thing : a chain, a chain ! " 
Now listen to Lord Campbell : 

" Here," says his Lordship, " we have a most circumstan- 
tial and graphic account of an English arrest on mesne process 
[' before judgment '], in an action on the case, for the price 
of a gold chain by a sheriff's officer or bum-bailiff in his buff 
costume, and carrying his prisoner to a sponging-house — a 
spectacle which might often have been seen by an attorney's 
clerk." 

I hope I may be excused for thinking that Lord Campbell 
does not do himself much credit by this specimen of his criti- 
cal acumen. He doubtless correctly describes the nature of 
an arrest on mesne process ; but there is no evidence that 
Shakespeare understood all the intricacies of that process be- 
cause one of his clowns utters a surface reference to it through 
the use of a current phrase, any more than there would be in 
supposing a man to know the geological strata of Mount Cau- 
casus because he mentions it by name. But, one thing is cer- 
tain (however far these technical expressions may be construed 
to go), that there is not virtue enough in these mere terms of 
law to overbalance the monstrous absurdity of allowing tip- 



" Comedy of Errors? 123 

staves to issue process for debt, and then to hold court for the 
purpose of taking bail or discharging service in the streets. I 
can not bring myself to believe that Lord Bacon, or any other 
lawyer who knew the philosophy of law, would have built any 
story upon such a ridiculous foundation as this. 

And I may add that neither could Bacon, as an experi- 
enced traveler and scholar, have made the geographical mis- 
takes with which this and other of the Shakespeare plays 
abound. Certainly his chronology would not have been so 
bad as to have alluded to rapiers, striking clocks, and ducats 
as having been in use in the early days of Ephesus. 

There is but little more for me to notice in this play as 
bearing upon our objective points, further than that the epi- 
thet of peasant is twice opprobriously used in it, as • likewise 
is the term of sla/oe, in application to ordinary honest serving- 
men. I must not omit to observe, however, that the Roman 
Catholic religion is most gracefully introduced toward the close 
of the play, in the person of an abbess, who gives sanctuary to 
one of the heroes of the piece and refuses to release him at the 
clamor of his wife, even when threatened with the power of 
the Duke. 

Abb. Be patient : for I will not let him stir, 

Till I have used the approved means I have. 

With wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, 

To make of him a formal man again : 

It is a branch and parcel of mine oath, 

A charitable duty of my order ; 

Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. 

By-and-by the Duke and his train arrive, whereupon the 
estimable abbess comes out of the abbey with Antipholus of 
Ephesus. But Shakespeare continues her as mistress of the 
situation, and thus winds up the main action of the piece : 

Abb. Renowned Duke, vouchsafe to take the pains 
To go with us into the abbey here, 
And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes : 
And all that are assembled at this place, 
That by this sympathized one day's error 
Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company,, 
And we shall make full satisfaction. 



124 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



The production of this charming comedy is variously 
assigned by Drake, Malone, and Schlegel to 1592, 1593, and 
1594 ; but Elze, more accurately, as I think, places it in the 
spring of 1590, when Shakespeare was twenty-six years of age, 
affirming that it was written as a masque or revel to be per- 
formed at the wedding of the Earl of Essex with Lady Sid- 
ney. This was a common custom with the aristocracy of 
Elizabeth's time, and the following closing lines of Oberon, 
the fairy king, in compliment to the marriage of Theseus and 
Hyppolita, would seem to confirm the idea that it was written 
by our poet to grace some marriage feast. Certainly, no task 
for Lord Bacon. 

The first thing which appears in this play touching the 
points of our inquiry is a legal expression that falls from the 
father of Hermia in the first scene of the first act, when he ap- 
peals to the Duke to require his daughter to obey his wishes by 
marrying with Demetrius, or else to grant against her, for 
the sin of disobedience, 

" Her death, according to our law, 
Immediately provided in that case." 

Both Steevens and Lord Campbell receive this expression 
as a proof that Shakespeare had served in an attorney's office ; 
and the latter remarks that " there is certainly no nearer ap- 
proach in heroic measure to the technical language of an 
indictment." 

This legal incident is then immediately followed by the 
following reverent allusion to the Roman Catholic religion, 
though the scene of the play is laid in early Greece. The 
Duke, Theseus, thus impresses upon Hermia the necessity of 
conforming to her father's will : 

'Theseus. Either to die the death, or to abjure 
For ever the society of men. 
Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, 
Know of your youth, examine well your blood, 
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, 
You can enjoy the livery of a nun; 



"Midsummer Night's Dream? 125 

For aye to oe in shady cloister mew'd, 
To live a barren sister all your life, 
Chanting faint hymns to the cold, fruitless moon. 
Thrice Messed they, that master so their Mood 
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage ; 
But earth lier happy is the rose distill'd, 
Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, 
Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. 
Hee. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, 

Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 
Unto his lordship. 

One can not help remarking here that a threatened incar- 
ceration of Hermia for life in a state prison would have been 
fully adequate to all the necessities of the scene, instead of 
lugging in a nunnery. So also would a prison have equally 
served the purposes of the last act of the " Comedy of Er- 
rors," in place of the abbey; but Shakespeare, evidently 
wanting to patronize the Catholic religion, followed his 
predilections. 

The next evidence we have bearing on our study are the 
lines at the conclusion of the same act, which show Shake- 
speared intimate knowledge of stage business ; first, in Snug's 
inquiry if the lion's part has been written out (i. e., copied) for 
him ; and next, in the arrangements made by Bottom and his 
mates in the distribution of the written (copied) parts for the 
actors; likewise in the provision of a "bill of properties" 
needed for their play before the Duke. All of this throws 
Bacon out of our consideration, so far as this composition is 
concerned, and at the same time disposes of the fiction of 
Shakespeare s " fair, round hand," which the players reported 
of his manuscript, and which, according to many of his critics, \ 
showed that his mind flowed with such a smooth felicity " that 
he never blotted out a line." This idea serves the purposes 
of the Baconians by making it appear that Shakespeare mere- 
ly copied out the manuscript of Bacon. 

The course of our scrutiny now brings us to the first dis- 
tinct illustrations of Shakespeare's low estimation of the me- 
chanical and laboring classes — the classes which, in the 
United States, are justly esteemed to be not the least honest, 
virtuous, and patriotic of the community. This tendency of 



126 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

our poet appears in the underplot of Bottom and the Athenian 
mechanics who have "been selected to perform before the new- 
ly married pair on the classical subject of Pyramus and Thisbe, 
upon the calculation that their ignorance would certainly bur- 
lesque it. We have already had an introduction to these 
simple-hearted fellows in the second scene of the first act, on 
the occasion of the distribution of their several dramatic parts ; 
and we now find them, at the opening of the third act, ready 
for rehearsal, in the wood, near where the faries are lying 
around asleep. While the working men are thus engaged, 
Puck, the fairy messenger and factotum of the nobles, enters 
from behind, and, in a tone of contempt which must have been 
graciously appreciated by Essex and the rest of the Elizabethan 
company, thus characterizes the hard-handed men who are 
doing their best to please their lordly patrons : 

Puck. What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here, 
So near the cradle of the f airy queen ? 

Puck, in the next scene, reports to Oberon the laughable 
metamorphosis he had made of Bottom, and his still more 
ludicrous exploit of having caused Titania to fall in love with 
him: 

Puck. My mistress with a monster is in love. 

Fear to her close and consecrated bower, 
While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, 
A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, 
That worlcfor tread upon Athenian stalls, 
Were met together to rehearse a play, 
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. 
The shallowest thiclc-sMn of that barren sort, 
Who Pyramus presented in their sport, 
Forsook his scene, and enter'd in a brake : 
When I did him at this advantage take, 
An ass's nowl I fixed on his head. 

Puck continues his report, as to the way he had carried 
out Oberon's other orders concerning Demetrius and Helena ; 
but he changes his contemptuous tone to one of severe respect 
when he refers to the ladies and gentlemen of the story. 
This treatment of the case by Shakespeare may be explain- 



u Midsummer Nighfs Dream? 127 

able either through the spontaneous servility he always shows 
to rank and birth, or, perhaps, to the more excusable object 
of having to cater to audiences of a people who are born wor- 
shipers of wealth and station — and the masses of whom, to 
this day, seem$ to enjoy nothing so much as to look upon a 
lord. 



128 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER XV. 



This remarkable play was produced in 1596, and published,, 
for the first time, in the year 1600. It was regarded as a 
comedy, and probably was written as such, the character of 
Shylock being originally consigned to a low comedian. The 
enjoyment and laughter of its audiences were obtained, con- 
sequently, from the sufferings and discomfort of the detested 
Jew. In degree, however, as the prejudice against the He- 
brews lifted, " The Merchant of Venice " gradually assumed 
the title of " a play," and latterly the role of Shylock had 
been entrusted only to the leading tragedians of the day. 
There is a world of moral in these simple facts. 

The plot, or story, has two leading incidents, both of which 
Shakespeare, with his usual contempt for mere narration, 
has taken bodily from foreign sources. The main action of 
the play is devoted to the fable of " Antonio the Merchant," 
borrowing a sum of money from Shylock, the Jew, to help 
his penniless friend, Bassanio, to inveigle the affections of a 
lady of exceeding wealth. The Jew, who had been much 
abused by Antonio for taking usury, proposes to take no in- 
terest from the borrower, either in order to recover his good 
will, or, in the event of his failing to pay, to catch him at a 
deadly disadvantage. Indeed, he asks not even security, 
except such as is to be found in the agreement, but consents 
to accept, in lieu of the loan, a pound of Antonio's flesh, to be 
cut by the creditor from off his breast. This foolish fiction, 
so repugnant to all the philosophy of law, is taken from 
an Italian novel published by Giovanni two hundred years 



" The Merchant of Venice? 129 

before Shakespeare's time ; while the secondary plot, in which 
the lady courted by Bassanio is subjected to the choice of any 
lover lucky enough to guess one out of three caskets that con- 
tains her picture, is, if possible, more trivial still. But this is 
the kind of thing which Shakespeare would constantly use in 
the matter of his plots ; and we are therefore justified in the 
conclusion that his first and controlling object was, not to 
inculcate intricate lessons of philosophy and morals, as many 
of his biographers assume, but to draw full houses and to 
please good-natured audiences. Indeed, could Shakespeare 
be roused from his " paved bed " for a few minutes, to listen to 
the profound theories ascribed to him by the German commen- 
tators upon such plays as " The Merchant of Yenice," " Two 
Gentlemen of Verona," and " The Comedy of Errors," his 
astonished shade would, probably, be glad to shrink back 
into its marble prison, in order to escape the intricate and 
foolish theories about him with which the world has been 
teased during the last fifty years. 

In fact, we are at first actually staggered by the amount of 
compound insight assumed by the German critics as to Shake- 
speare's drift and inculcations. So busily had these literary 
beavers worked at the text of the immortal bard that they 
usually allotted to him the credit of six or seven different pro- 
fundities of purpose in the story of one play, or even in the 
development of a single character. This complicated clever- 
ness not only amazed but for a time discouraged me, and I 
almost sank under a sense of hopeless incapacity at being able 
to understand one fifth of what they intimated. Finally, how- 
ever, I determined to go on, relying for success upon the reso- 
lution with which I had set out — not to make this inquiry an 
argument for one point or another either of religion or democ- 
racy or law. On the contrary, to keep it, as far as I could, 
rigidly to its true character of an examination, in which every- 
thing bearing upon the inquiry, whether in favor of Bacon or 
of Shakespeare, should appear. I believe I have been faith- 
ful to this purpose ; but, if the facts thus far have all borne one 
way, and if my intelligence has been obliged to exercise the 
common privilege of judgment, the cumulation of authority 
must not be charged to any bias on my part. 
9 



130 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Now, as to the German exploitation of the compound 
philosophical inculcations of our poet, let us look at the simple 
sketch of the three branches of " The Merchant of Venice " 
(which, be it remembered, Shakespeare took bodily from other 
minds), and see what some of these Germans impute to his 
mind in simply reproducing the story in an English form. 

First let us read the following account of the original 
sources of Shakespeare's play, as it appears in Rowe's edition 
of our poet's dramatic works : 

" The plot of ' The Merchant of Venice ' comprises the chief circum- 
stance of the bond, the auxiliary incident of the caskets, and the sub-story 
of Lorenzo and Jessica. The story of the bond is of Oriental origin ; it 
first appeared in Europe in a work by Giovanni, a Florentine novelist, 
from which our dramatist, though indirectly, perhaps, has taken his ma- 
terial. 

" Giannetto obtains permission from his godfather, Ansaldo, to travel 
to Alexandria, but changes his mind, in the hopes of gaining a lady of great 
wealth and beauty at Belmont, whose baud is proffered to him who can 
obtain a premature enjoyment of the connubial rites. Overpowered with 
sleep, occasioned by a narcotic given him in his wine, he fails in his enter- 
prise, and his vessel and cargo, which he had wagered on his success, are 
forfeited. Another ship is equipped, which he loses in a second attempt; 
and a third is made at the expense of his godfather, who borrows ten 
thousand ducats from a Jew, on condition that, if they are not returned by 
a stipulated day, the lender may cut a pound of flesh from any part of the 
debtor's body. Giannetto obtains the lady ; but, lost in delight with his 
bride, forgets Ansaldo's bond till the very day it becomes due. He has- 
tens to Venice, but the time is past, and the usurer refuses ten times the 
value of his bond. Giannetto's lady arrives at tins crisis, and causes it to 
be announced that she can resolve difficult questions in law. Consulted 
in the case of Ansaldo, she decides that the Jew must have his pound of 
flesh ; but that he shall lose his head if he cuts more or less, or draws one 
drop of blood. The Jew relinquishes his demand, and Ansaldo is released. 
The bride will not receive money as a recompense, but desires Giannetto's 
wedding-ring, which he gives her. The lady arrives at home before her 
husband, and immediately asks for her ring, which he being unable to pro- 
duce, she upbraids him with having given it to some mistress. At length 
Giannetto's sorrow affects his wife, and she explains the particulars of her 
journey and disguise. All this is closely followed by Shakespeare ; but 
the improbability of a lady's possessing so much legal acumen is skillfully 
removed by making her consult an eminent lawyer and act under his 
advice. 

" The choosing of the caskets is borrowed from the English l Gesta 



" The Merchant of Venice?- 131 

Komanorum, 1 a collection of tales much esteemed by our ancestors. Three 
vessels were placed before the King of Apulia's daughter for her choice. 
The first was of pure gold, and filled with dead men's bones; on it was 
this inscription : Who chooses me shall find what he deserves. The second 
was of silver, and thus inscribed: Who chooses me shall find what nature 
covets. It was filled with earth. The third vessel was of lead, but filled 
with precious stones. It had this inscription : Who chooses me shall find 
what God has placed. The princess, after praying for assistance, chooses 
the leaden vessel. The emperor applauds her wisdom, and she is united 
to his son." 

Here are the two branches of the main story almost com- 
pletely ; therefore, whatever that story inculcates must be 
credited to Giovanni, the Florentine originator, and not to 
Shakespeare. But hear what the German commentators say : 
Karl Elze, who is a doctor of philosophy, remarks, "that it 
might be supposed critics would long since have come to a 
unanimous and generally recognized aesthetic estimate of such 
a much-read play as ' The Merchant of Venice,' standing as it 
does on the repertoire of almost every stage ; however, the con- 
ceptions of the fundamental idea, the opinions concerning the 
composition and the criticism of the characters, differ here 
more widely than in the case of most of the other works of our 
poet." Gervinus finds " a proof of the wealth and many-sided- 
ness of Shakespeare's works to lie in the variety of the points 
of view from which they may be regarded, as it is not without 
a certain degree and appearance of correctness that several 
opinions on one and the same play may be formed." According 
to Horn, " The Merchant of Yenice " " is based upon a truly 
grand, profound, extremely delightful, nay, an almost blessed 
idea, upon a purely Christian, conciliatory love, and upon 
meditating mercy as opposed to the law and to what is called 
right." Surely this must be very fine, if one could only 
understand it ! Ulrici, in the very best of Latin, finds the 
ideal of unity in the saying, " Summum jus, summa inju- 
ria " / that is to say, the rigor of the law is the very rigor of 
oppression, and Rotscher so modifies this view that he consid- 
ers the innermost spirit of the play evidently to be " the dia- 
lectics of abstract right." He oracularly adds : " By the ex- 
pression of abstract right we mean that development by which 
abstract right by itself— that is, by its own nature — discovers 



132 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

its own worthlessness, consequently destroys itself where it 
seeks to govern human life, and to assert itself as an absolute 
power." This logic is so superbly intricate that it seems out 
of place anywhere but in the mouth of the hair-splitting first 
grave-digger in " Hamlet." Elze thinks that " the center of 
gravity of the play lies in Portia's address to Mercy " ; l and 
Gervinus comes again with the idea that, " in ' The Merchant 
of Venice,' the poet wished to delineate man's relation to prop- 
erty." He most profoundly adds that " to prove a man's rela- 
tion to property, to money, is to weigh his inner value by a 
most subtile balance, and to separate that which clings to un- 
essential and external things from that which, in its inner 
nature, places itself in relation to a higher destiny." Surely 
the negro minstrels never did anything better than this ! 
Hebler, objecting to the idea of Gervinus, that " money, the 
god of the world, is the symbol of appearance and of every- 
thing external," admits nevertheless that the fundamental idea 
of the piece "lies in the struggle against appearance and of 
everything external " ; but he confesses that it is " by no means 
only represented symbolically by the caskets, but in a very 
plastic and classical manner." " According to this concep- 
tion," says another, " Bassanio's speech, when selecting the 
casket, contains the key to the poem, and it can not be denied 
that it possesses as great a claim to this distinction as Portia's 
apotheosis to Mercy." Kreysig, lastly, " recognizes the im- 
possibility of comprising the numerous diverse and to some 
extent opposite elements of the play under one fundamental 
idea," and concludes by saying, for the benefit of whom it 
may concern, " that strong feeling, together with clear and 
sure reasoning, balance each other in the character pervading 
the whole." All of which profound and eloquent encomiums 
being due more, to Giovanni than to Shakespeare, so far as the 
story is concerned, bring me to the same state of complication 
which disturbed the mind of the celebrated negro philosopher 
when endeavoring to solve the obvious difficulties of the prob- 
lem of a horse " dying on a man's hands." 

1 " Essays on Shakespeare," by Karl Elze, pp. 67-69. London, Mac- 
millan & Co., 1874. 



"The Merchant of Venice? 133 

It seems to me that, if Shakespeare had any leading motive 
In this play, outside of making a success in the way of money, 
it was to cater to the common hatred of the Jews, which 
burned so fiercely in the Elizabethan age, and reached its in- 
tensest fury among the devotees of the Latin faith. And here 
let us not overlook the fact that, according to the old-time 
doctrines of the Catholic Church, " it was a grievous sin to 
take interest on money : nay, usury was a crime amenable to 
the ecclesiastical tribunals, and Pope Clement Y declared it 
heresy to vindicate it. The subsequent Popes, Pius Y and 
Sextus Y (1585-1590), even Benedict XIY, as late as the 
middle of the eighteenth century, confirmed this doctrine. 
The outcast Jew alone was permitted by the law to take in- 
terest. And the Protestant Reformers on this point adopted 
the doctrine of the Catholic Church." 2 In the Yenetian pe- 
riod of which Shakespeare writes, " the Jews were cooped up 
in their ghettos, and marked by a conspicuous dress like hang- 
men and prostitutes. All branches of business were prohibited 
to them, except those of barter and dealings in money, and 
this sole source of acquiring the means of existence was brand- 
ed by the name of usury." Here we have the key to the 
loathing and contumely put upon Shylock by Antonio, who? 
in a spirit even meaner than any exhibited by the Hebrew, 
was guilty of the gross blackguardism of kicking him and of 
spitting upon his beard ; nay, was shameless enough to boast 
to his face that he might again, through mere caprice and 
wantonness, repeat that outrageous conduct. No wonder that 
Shylock wished to " catch him on the hip." In further proof 
that Shakespeare meant to cater to the common prejudice of 
his audiences against the Jews, and doubtless felt it himself, he 
permitted Shylock to be represented at his own theatre with 
red hair and a long false nose, in order that the audience 
might not sympathize with his sufferings, when, after losing 
his daughter and his fortune, he was brutally required even to 
abjure his faith. 

This portraiture of Shylock was continued down to the 
latter end .of the seventeenth century, and reached its climax 

3 Karl Elze's " Essay on Shakespeare," p. 86. 



134 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

when Lord Lansdowne, in a version of the play called "The* 
Jew of Venice," introduced a scene of buffoonery for Shy- 
lock, at the feast given by Bassanio. In this piece Shylock 
is represented as the butt of the company, and also as the 
jester of the table for the amusement of the Christian guests. 
" This misconception of the character of Shylock," says the 
writer of the introduction to French's edition of the play,, 
"prevailed until Macklin restored the original text to the 
stage. This actor's admirable performance of the character, 
at once so new and striking, drew from Pope the well-known 

eulogium, 

' This is the Jew 
That Shakespeare drew.' " 

Nevertheless, Shakespeare permitted Shylock to be deline- 
ated as a jack-pudding at his own theatre because, undoubt- 
edly, that form of caricature both pleased and paid. This 
gives us a singular insight into the worldliness and facility of 
Shakespeare's money-making nature ; for it is impossible to 
read his delineation of this tremendous character, and dwell 
upon the mighty investiture of thought, force, and passion 
with which he consecrated it to tragic elevation, without con- 
ceiving the pain it must have caused him to yield the great 
portraiture to comic hands— to see his ideal of Judaism, his 
well-drawn representative of an inflexible race, which no 
wrongs nor contumelies could subvert, speaking in the mirth- 
provoking tones of a comedian. 

It is clear to me that the consideration for the success of 
the piece which induced Shakespeare, as a manager, to per- 
mit Shylock to be burlesqued and perverted to the hands of 
a low comedian, could not have operated upon the mind of 
such a man as Bacon. On the contrary, it was purely the 
consideration of a playwright, and not the intellectual sur- 
render of one who was either wholly a poet or wholly a phi- 
losopher. Shakespeare loved money more, apparently, than 
he loved art ; and, in despite of the fine-spun theories of his, 
biographers and the bubbles of the aesthetic Germans, I can 
not resist the conviction that he wrote, and especially in this; 
play of " The Merchant of Venice," for pounds instead of 
principles, and never once bothered his mind about inoul- 



" The Merchant of Venice? 135 

eating moral lessons on mankind. I believe, moreover, that 
he had but a limited ambition for the glory of a poet. 
Though his brain, when at work, would flame with the gen- 
ius of a demi-god, his prevailing elements were earthy, and 
the coarser portion of his nature steered his work. The con- 
stant thirst which he had for wealth is exhibited by his early 
acquisition of houses and lands in London and in Stratford ; 
and the firmness of his grip on his accumulations is mani- 
fested by the paltry suits he brought to recover petty debts — 
one being for thirty-five shillings and tenpence — after he h;id 
come to the enjoyment of an income which would now be 
equal to twenty thousand dollars a year. Indeed, if he had 
been governed solely by the elevation of a poet, he could not 
have submitted his masterly and vigorous ideal of the re- 
vengeful Jew to the degrading role of a buffoon ; while, if it 
ever entered into his head to inculcate moral lessons by his 
plays, he would not have forgiven Proteus and Angelo, or 
have written that deliberate essay in favor of free love 
known as " Troilus and Cressida." In fact, Shakespeare had 
no morals, so to speak; and what he exhibits in that way 
were just as meager as any writer would be allowed to have 
who was obliged to submit his views to the instinctive good- 
ness of the big-hearted multitude. 

Witness this very play. First, we have the blackguard 
Antonio "footing" an unoffending man and spitting into 
his beard because he differed with him in religious belief, or 
because he followed a way of business (within the protec- 
tion of the law) which he did not like. And this ruffian 
is the idol of our poet's admiration. Next comes Bassanio, 
an unprincipled, penniless adventurer, a mere tavern spend- 
thrift and carouser, who borrows money that he may cheat a 
wealthy maiden of her dower. And this fine figure is Shake- 
speare's second pet ! Then follow those poodles and para- 
sites, Gratiano, Salarino, Solanio, and Lorenzo, the first willing 
to put up with Portia's waiting-maid, Nerissa, because there 
is money " all round " in Portia's neighborhood, and the 
latter inducing a little girl to rob her father's house, which 
contemptible crime meets with the unlimited approval and 
active aid of the whole gang, from Antonio down. If these 



136 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

are Shakespeare's preferred representatives of Christian mor- 
als, they appear in poor contrast to Shylock and Tubal, as 
revengeful as lie makes the first to be. The moral of the 
caskets is neither better nor a whit more wise ; for it simply 
advocates the system of lottery against that of judgment. 
Moreover, it can not be believed that, among the swarm of 
suitors who, first and last, had been at Portia's residence, not 
one had hit upon the leaden casket until Bassanio took his 
turn. Neither can any one credit for an instant the pre- 
teDse that so keen a girl as Portia would not have jockeyed 
her foolish father's will by giving her favorite, Bassanio, a 
wink. Every one, therefore, must agree that the problem of 
the caskets was worked out in its very weakest way by decid- 
ing against the Princes of Morocco and Arragon, who had 
something to risk, in favor of a beggarly sharper who had 
nothing to lose; and who was accessory, both before and 
after the fact, to the robbery of the Jew's house. 

This seems to be harsh language, and it doubtless jars 
with the settled notions of many a worshiper of Shake- 
speare; but these are the portraits of our poet's very words. 
The Antonio party, with the exception possibly of Antonio 
himself, are profligates and spendthrifts, with, as is evident 
from Bassanio's pecuniary straits, scarcely a dollar among 
them. As for Bassanio, he has not only " disabled his es- 
tate" by " showing a more swelling port than his faint means 
would grant continuance," but he is hopelessly in debt on all 
sides, and most largely to Antonio, for loans obtained to float 
his pleasures. Nevertheless, he goes to him again, and, like 
all habitual borrowers, tempts him with the hope of getting 
his money back, if he will only help him with a little more. 
His new aim on this occasion is a wealthy lady who has made 
eyes at him, 3 but whom he does not pretend to love — his sole 

3 Bassanio. In Belmont is a lady richly left, 

And she is fair, and fairer than that word, 

Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes, from tier eyes 

I did receive fair speechless messages. 

Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 



" The Merchant of Venice? 137 

object being " to get clear of all the debts he owes" by cap- 
turing her fortune ; and, especially, to square accounts with 
Antonio. These are the coarse temptations which operate 
to obtain from Antonio the loan which is the pivot of the 
piece. 

We next have an exhibition of the personal morals of An- 
tonio, who, though he has spit upon Shylock for taking usury, 
encourages his repetition of that practice by offering to pay 
him usury himself. 

Antonio. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow, 
By taking nor by giving of excess, 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. 

So much for the morals of Antonio and Bassanio. Let us 
now take the virtuous measure of Lorenzo, Solanio, Gratiano, 
and Salarino. We find ample opportunity for this process 
in Scene 6 of Act II, where the two latter are seen lurking 
about Shylock's house at night, in order to assist Lorenzo in 
his plot to abduct Jessica, the Jew's daughter, and, as I said 
before,*to rob Shylock' s vaults. In connection with this view, 
let it be borne in mind that Bassanio has aided them in the 
disgraceful scheme by decoying Shylock to his feast ; ay, to 
the very feast where these shameless rogues are to sit and eat 
with him after they have rifled him of his jewels and his 

child. 

Act II, Scene 6. — Before ShylocWs House. 

Enter Geatiano and Salaeino, masqued. 
Gea. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo 

Desired us to make a stand. 
Salae. His hour is almost past. 

Eenowned suitors ; and her sunny locks 

Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 

Which makes her seat of Belmont Oolchos' strand, 

And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

Oh, my Antonio ! had I but the means, 

To hold a rival place with one of them, 

I have a mind presages me such thrift, 

That I should, questionless, be fortunate. 

Act I, Scene 1. 



138 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Gea. And it is marvel he outdwells his hour y 
For lovers ever run before the clock. 

Enter Loeenzo. 
Loe. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode : 
Not I, but my affairs have made you wait : 
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
I'll watch as long as you. 

Jessica then appears at a window disguised in boy's clothes 
and throws a casket of jewels to Lorenzo, telling him to wait 
until she gathers up some more of her father's ducats before 
she joins him at the door. When her flight is discovered, the 
Jew rightly suspects that Bassanio, who had lured him to his 
feast, is party to the abduction, and follows to the strand, 
where he is embarking for Fadua, on his trip to swindle 
Portia. He reaches the wharf too late, however, for the ad- 
venturer has sailed. Bassanio next turns up in the neighbor- 
hood of Belmont, and, penniless as he is, approaches it with 
the flourish of a prince. He sends a pursuivant before him 
to announce his coming, and to lay at Portia's feet " gifts of 
rich value" out of Antonio's toughly-borrowed money; but he 
fails to acquaint Portia with his poverty until after he has ir- 
revocably won her in the lottery. Here are a precious set of 
scamps, not one of whom, to judge from their way of life, has 
ever done a worthy act or who owns an honest dollar, to con- 
trast with the patient and lawful thrift which has made Shy- 
lock simply the Rothschild or the Drexel of his day, in a way 
of business now practiced by every banking institution in the 
Christian world. Finally, that there may be no mistake 
about the morals and motives of the Antonio party, the first 
exclamation which G-ratiano makes to one of the gang arriv- 
ing at Belmont from Yenice is, while apparently throwing up 

his hat — 

" We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece ! " 

Worst shame of all, the first exercise of liberty by Antonio,, 
on being rescued from his penalty, is to decline to pay the 
principal of the bond, and to propose, after Shylock has been 
crushed by the loss of his only child and the confiscation of 
his fortune, the inexpressibly savage punishment of the abju- 



" The Merchant of Venice? 139 

ration of his faith. The boundaries of human vengeance had 
already been reached by the abduction of his daughter and 
the judgment of the court ; but the mild-spoken Antonio goes 
beyond, and pants to kill his Hebrew soul. Rightly did the 
Jew exclaim, in view of the specimens which Shakespeare set 
before him — 

" Father Abraham, what these Christians are ! " 



140 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEK XVI. 

" THE MEKCHANT OF VENICE " (CONTINUED). 

Let us now turn to the main feature of the drama — Shy- 
lock's bond — which most conspicuously tests Shakespeare's 
law. 

The action of this part of the story begins in the third 
act, after Bassanio has securely landed Portia from his net, 
and Gratiano has won the second prize of the expedition, in 
the possession of Nerissa. Lorenzo has been equally success- 
ful with the Jew's daughter, and the whole party are rioting 
at Belmont over their good fortune when their hilarity is 
suddenly dampened by the arrival of a letter from Antonio 
with the news that all his ships have been wrecked at sea, and 
that, being unable to meet his bond to Shylock, he will have 
to undergo its penalty. The messenger, Solanio, who brings 
these tidings, also informs the startled company that, the day 
of payment being past, Shylock refuses the satisfaction of the 
bond and insists upon the bloody forfeiture. 

It is at once agreed, at the end of this conference, that 
Bassanio, Gratiano, and Solanio shall go immediately to Yen- 
ice, with a large bag of Portia's money, to meet all exi- 
gencies, as well as to pay the bond. In order to draw this 
money from the lady's coffers, Bassanio here, for the first time, 
confesses to her that he has no money of his own. At this 
parting it is mutually agreed by the two newly-married 
couples that all nuptial joys shall be postponed between them 
until Antonio is released. Bassanio with his male friends 
having started upon this business, Portia hits upon the plan 
of following them with Nerissa, in the disguise of a lawyer 



"The Merchant of Venice? 141 

attended by his clerk. And, in order to actually play a law- 
yer's part in the extrication of Antonio, she sends a messenger 
to her cousin, a learned old barrister in Padua, named Bel- 
lario, requesting him to send his lawyer's robes, and give such 
directions in the way of legal points as will enable her to 
defend Antonio in a lawyer-like manner before the court. 
Having dispatched the messenger, she then informs Lorenzo 
and Jessica, who have already commenced their honeymoon, 
that she intends to leave them to keep house a few days, while 
she and her maid ISTerissa go to perform a solemn task until 
her husband's return. And here again Shakespeare brings in 
the inevitable monastery : 

Poetia. Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 

The husbandry and manage of my house, 
Until my lord's return ; for my own part, 
I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow, 
To live in prayer and contemplation, 
Only attended by Nerissa here, 
Until her husband and my lord's return ; 
There is a monastery two miles off, 
And there we will abide. 

Any other place of abode for a week would have suited 
the purposes of the story quite as well ; but Shakespeare must 
have in his monastery whenever there is an opportunity to 
show one off to advantage. 

All of this last scene is the very height of absurdity. 
There might have been some sense in employing Bellario to 
go to Yenice, where the ladies could also have gone in dis- 
guise, and have had all the fun they wanted, in the way of 
masking and sideplay, while the old doctor was trying the 
case. But for these two chits, or, as Portia describes herself, 

"An unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractised," 

to go in barrister's garments, and with a handful of mere legal 
notes to represent the gravity and learning necessary to con- 
duct a capital case before a court of the highest grade, is an 
extremity of nonsense which reaches the point of absolue bur- 
lesque. We get at the full ludicrousness of this attempt at 



142 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

deception, by the parting dialogue between Portia and Ke- 
rissa, as they set out for Yenice on this lunatic enterprise. 

At the commencement of the fourth act, all the parties, 
except Lorenzo and Jessica, meet in the great court of Yenice, 
where the Duke, surrounded by his magnificoes, is solemnly 
presiding. Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, Salarino, and Solanio 
are present at the opening of the proceedings, and presently, 
upon the order of the D uke, Shylock enters ; whereupon the 
Duke: 

Duke. Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so, too, 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act ; and then, 'tis thought, 
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And where thou now exact'st the penalty 
(Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh), 
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture, 
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
That have of late so huddled on his back, 
Enough to press a royal merchant down. 

We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 
Sht. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose; 

And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 

To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 

If you deny it, let the danger light 

Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
....... 

So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 

More than a lodged hate, and a certain loathing, 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 
Bass. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 

To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 
Sht, I am not bound to please thee with my answer. 
Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 
Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 

This latter expression of Shylock' s shows express malice, 
and, along with the testimony which Jessica gave to the com- 
pany at Belmont, would have justified an arrest of proceed- 
ings by the Duke, with an order to take Shylock off to prison. 



"The Merchant of Venice? 143 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 
Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats, 

Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 

I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 
Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none? 
Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? 
Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court, 

Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 

Whom I have sent for to determine this, 

Come here to-day. 

At this point a messenger arrives witli a letter from Bel- 
lario, representing that, being very sick, he sends in his stead 
a young and learned doctor named Balthasar. This intro- 
duces Portia, who comes dressed as a doctor of laws : 

Duke. Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? 

Por. I did, my lord. 

Duke. You are welcome ; take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the difference 

That holds this present question in the court? 
Poe. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. 

Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? 
Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth! 
Poe. Is your name Shylock ? 

Shy. Shylock is my name. 

Poe. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 

Yet in such a rule, that the Venetian law 

Cannot impugn you, as you do proceed. — 

You stand within his danger, do you not? 

[To Antonio. 

Ant. Ay, so he says. 

Poe. Do you confess the bond? 

Ant. I do. 

Poe. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that. 

My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law, 

The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 
Por. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 
Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 

Yea, thrice the sum ; if that will not suffice, 

I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 

On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart ; 



144 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

If this will not suffice, it must appear 

That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you 

[ To the Duke. 
Wrest once the law to your authority : 
To do a great right do a little wrong ; 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

Portia, nevertheless, admits that the law must take its 
course, but, perceiving the Jew had made himself ready with 
his knife, she suddenly interferes : 

Poe. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 

This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood: 

The words expressly are a pound of flesh ; 

Take, then, thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 

But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 

One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 

Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 

Unto the state of Venice. 

The astounded Shylock, seeing himself caught, is then de- 
sirous of taking thrice the money ; but, Portia objecting, he 
is willing to accept the principal. This being objected to 
also, he curses the debtor and attempts to leave the court. In 
this movement, likewise, he is frustrated by the heroine : 

Poe. Tarry, Jew : 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
If it be proved against an alien, 
That, by direct or indirect attempts, 
He seek the life of any citizen, 
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
In which predicament, I say thou stand'st ; 
For it appears by manifest proceeding, 
That, indirectly, and directly, too, 
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formerly by me rehearsed. 
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke I 



"The Merchant of Venice? 145 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee th y life before thou ask it ; 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
The other half comes to the general state, 
"Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 

Antonio, who had suddenly recovered his spirits at this 
turn of things, hereupon thriftily suggests that the tine of the 
Jew's remaining half be turned over to him until Shylock's 
death, in trust for Lorenzo and Jessica, thus cleverly making 
himself the possessor of three fourths of his creditor's estate* 
This modest request shows him to be quite as keen of scent 
for money as the Jew; but the remainder of the penalty 
which he proposes exhibits him as infinitely more revengeful 
and malignant : 

Ant. So please my lord the duke, and all the court, 

To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 

I am content, so he will let me have 

The other half in use, to render it, 

Upon his death, unto the gentleman 

That lately stole his daughter ; 

Two things provided more — That, for this favor, 

He presently become a Christian ; 

The other, that he do record a gift, 

Here in the court, of all he dies possessed, 

Unto his son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 
Duke. He shall do this ; or else I do recant 

The pardon that I late pronounced here. 
Poe. Art thou contented, Jew ; what dost thou say ? 
Shy. I am content. 

Poe. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. I pray you give me leave to go from hence ; 

I am not well ; send the deed after me, 

And I will sign it. 

[Exit Shylock:. 

This is the last of Shylock, for, utterly broken down by 
his misfortunes, he disappears to die. But the terrible addi- 
tion to his sentence, which Antonio devilishly suggests and 
which the Duke adopts, has been rightly denounced as going 
beyond all reasonable ideas of human punishment. Looking 
upon Shylock as one " with whose nature religion is an essen- 
tial element, and whose Mosaism flows from his very heart," 
10 



146 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

this portion of the sentence, put upon him by Antonio, is, to 
use the words of Elze, " no longer poetic justice or tragical 
retribution, but mental and moral annihilation, the inevitable 
consequences of which must lead to physical death." Surely 
no man, who had an enlightened belief in his own religion, 
could have asked such a penalty as this upon another. 

Now, to take it altogether, here is a fine court, and these 
are fine proceedings. Can any one believe for a moment that 
Lord Bacon, who was a statesman and a lawyer, or that any 
other man who was a lawyer at all, could have built a story 
on such a jumble of legal absurdities and impossibilities as 
are here offered for our entertainment ? The supposition that 
a cultivated State like Venice, in the advanced state of prog- 
ress represented by the period of this play, or that any organ- 
ized State one degree removed above barbarism, would permit 
a citizen to pledge away his life, as an alternative penalty to 
a money contract, with no equity of redemption, is a fiction 
which no lawyer would tolerate for an instant. A lawyer 
could not invent it, and certainly would not receive it second- 
hand for constructive purposes, because he would be at war, 
at every breath, with his sense of professional congruity. 
His mind could not work at all on such a plan. Least of all 
would a proud judge like Bacon, who had sat for years in all 
the frozen dignity of the Lord Chancellorship of England, 
have written a scene which yielded all the arbitrary functions 
of a ducal bench to a beardless, prating boy, or have turned 
the court-room into a shambles by permitting the creditor to 
cut his victim up in their presence. He certainly would not 
have made so high-placed a magistrate as the head of an 
Imperial Court exhibit such imbecile ignorance of the law 
as Shakespeare imputes to him, nor have conferred all the 
functions of authority and judgment upon the young advo- 
cate, in the face of the admissions made by other portions 
of the text that the Duke had ample power not only to ad- 
journ the court, but to remit the death penalty from Shylock 
— nay, even to decree confiscation of his goods, and impose 
every form of judgment, out of hand. 

It may be urged, on the other hand, that the laws of Yenice 
were exceptionally rigorous, indeed Draconian; and it has 



"The Merchant of Venice? 147 

been urged "that the horrible incident of cutting off the flesh 
found its origin in that atrocious decern viral law of the twelve 
tables of Rome, which empowered a creditor to mangle the 
living body of his debtor without fear of punishment." For 
the honor of the Roman law, however, it is not recorded that 
this inhuman privilege ever was enforced. Buddhist legends 
and the G-uleding law of Norway show that other countries 
permitted the creditor to hack off from the debtor, who would 
not work for him, as much flesh as he liked ; but, with all, an 
equity of redemption was provided for, and the debtor ceased 
to be a debtor when he could tender the amount of his obliga- 
tion, with compound interest, or some other penalty of ac- 
cumulation. This equity presented itself with peculiar force 
in Antonio's case, who had not made default through dishon- 
esty, wastefulness, or any form of personal improvidence, but 
under lightning and storm and the irresistible visitation of 
God. 

It is surprising that Lord Chief Justice Campbell, in his 
reply to Mr. Payne Collier's inquiry — whether Shakespeare 
had ever served in an attorney's office — should not have re- 
sponded, when treating of the legal evidences in this play, by 
showing how utterly ignorant Shakespeare was of the philoso- 
phy of law • but his lordship goes simply over the surface of 
the play for mere phrases of attorneyship, and satisfies himself 
with such terms as " single bond," " let good Antonio keep his 
day? and with Shylock's rebuke to the jailor for taking 
Antonio out of prison for a walk (which his lordship calls 
Shylock's threat to prosecute the jailor " with an action for 
escape "), to establish the conclusion that Shakespeare had 
undoubtedly, at some time, served under an attorney. 

I have nothing further to comment upon in connection 
with " The Merchant of Venice," as bearing upon our inquiry, 
except to direct attention to the following allusions, which 
Shakespeare is so fond of making to the superior human 
worthiness of princes and kings : 

Then music is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch. 

Act III, Scene 2. 



148 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing, pleased multitude, 
"Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild joy of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd, and not express'd. 

Act III, Scene 2. 

Portia's apotheosis to Mercy contains another striking 
instance of this involuntary homage; but finally, in the fifth 
act, she gives another : 

Poe. How far that little candle throws its beams! 

So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 
Nee. When the moon shone we did not see the candle. 
Poe. So doth the greater glory dim the less: 

A substitute shines brightly as a king, 

Until a king be by ; and then his state 

Empties itself, as doth an inland brook, 

Into the main of waters. 



"Much Ado About Nothing? 149 



CHAPTEK XVII. 



"much ado about nothing." 



The plot of this play, according to Pope, was taken by 
Shakespeare from the fifth book of " Orlando Furioso," and 
was first printed in the year 1600. Steevens thinks that 
Spenser's " Faerie Queene " furnished the main incidents and 
groundwork of the story, while others attribute it to Ban- 
dello's twenty-second tale, " Timbreo of Cardena." Its origin, 
however, is a matter of no importance to the line of inquiry 
we are upon, and it has not enough expression bearing upon 
our points to claim much attention. 

The first thing which strikes us is the dialogue that occurs 
at the opening of the piece, between Leonato and a messenger, 
who has just come in with the news of a battle, inasmuch as 
it shows how Shakespeare constantly ignores all consideration 
for the welfare of common people from his mind: 

Leonato. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? 
Messengee. But few of any sort, and none of name. 
Leonato. A victory is twice itself when the achiever hrings home full 
numbers — 

and here Leonato stops, without deigning to inquire how 
many common soldiers have been killed, wounded, and cap- 
tured. 

The next thing which attracts our attention is the intro- 
duction of a friar in the fourth act, who, immediately upon the 
unjust accusation of Hero, takes up the leading and most esti- 
mable action of the piece. He is the first to say to the swoon- 
ing and barbarously injured maiden, "Have comfort, lady," 



150 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

and to thus beautifully beg of her accusers a fair and patient 
hearing : 

Friar. Hear ine a little ; 

For I have only been silent so long 
And given way unto this course of fortune, 
By noting of the lady ; I have mark'd 
A thousand blushing apparitions start 
Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes"; 
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, 
To burn the errors that these princes hold 
Against her maiden truth : — Call me a fool : 
Trust not my reading, nor my observations, 
"Which with experimental seal doth warrant 
The tenour of my book ; trust not my age, 
My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
Under some biting error. 

Leonato. Friar, it can not be r 

Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left 
Is, that she will not add to her damnation 
A sin of perjury ; she not denies it : 
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse 
That which appears in proper nakedness ? 

The benevolent and sagacious friar, nevertheless, persists ; 
and finally, by suggesting the device that the lady shall be re- 
ported dead until the slander is cleared up, succeeds in vindi- 
cating her fair fame, and in bringing everything to happy 
termination. In pursuance of this pious plan of the worthy 
father, Shakespeare, of course, introduces the convent or mon- 
astery, which he ever seems to have on hand, and which, as 
in the following lines of the Friar, he always gives a good 
account of: 

Friar. You may conceal her 

(As best befits her wounded reputation) 
In some reclusive and religious life, 
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. 

Finally the Friar is successful, and has the great triumph of 
being able to exclaim, in the last scene — 

" Did I not tell you she was innocent ? "j 



" Much Ado About Nothing? 1 5 1 

This brings the hymeneal fates of Benedick and Beatrice to a 
crisis ; and Benedick, having secured the consent of Beatrice, 
addresses himself to her father for his acquiescence. He thus 
consigns himself to the hands of the good friar for his media- 
tion : 

Benedick. My will is, that your good will 

May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin'd 

In the estate of honorable marriage; 

In which, good friar, I shall desire your help. 

It will be seen, therefore, that in this play, as in " Measure 
for Measure," " The Comedy of Errors," and all we have thus 
far scrutinized, Shakespeare loses no opportunity to exhibit 
his profound reverence and superior respect for the Roman 
Catholic faith. His priests and female devotees are filled with 
all the known virtues, and are always chosen as his favorite in- 
struments for the moral adjustment of the plots. 

Before disposing of this piece, I can not avoid remarking 
upon the singular and painful inappropriateness of the levity 
of Claudio in his gibing scene with Benedick, immediately 
after the degrading and tragic death of his betrothed ; nor 
can I help protesting against the gross character of some of 
the dialogues in which Beatrice takes a leading part. Though 
she is represented as a lady of the highest rank and refine- 
ment, we are brought irresistibly to the conclusion that our 
poet could not have had as good an opportunity of knowing 
what high-bred ladies were as Lord Bacon. 

KNOWLEDGE OF LAW. 

The evidences which Lord Chief Justice Campbell finds of 
Shakespeare's knowledge of the law in " Much Ado About 
Nothing " are hardly worthy of our serious attention. His 
lordship thinks that the characters of Dogberry and Yerges 
were meant to satirize the ignorance of parish constables, 
and possibly were aimed as high as at " Chairmen at Quarter 
Sessions and even Judges of Assize, with whose performances 
he (Shakespeare) may probably have become acquainted at 
"Warwick and elsewhere." His lordship then delivers himself 
upon Dogberry's learning as follows : 



152 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

"If the different parts of Dogberry's charge are strictly 
examined, it will be found that the author of it had a very 
respectable acquaintance with crown law. The problem was 
to save the constables from all trouble, danger, and responsi- 
bility, without any regard to the public safety. 

"Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect him, hy virtue of your 
office, to he no true man ; and for such kind of men, the less you meddle 
or make with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 

"2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not lay hands on 
him? 

"Dogb. Truly, hy your office you may; but, I think, they that touch 
pitch will be denied. The most peaceable way for you. if you do take a 
thief, is to let him show himself what he is, and steal out of your 
company." 

" Now, there can be no doubt," says Campbell, " that Lord 
Coke himself could not more accurately have defined the 
power of a peace-officer." 

It seems to me that Lord Chief Justice Campbell, who 
overlooked the gross violations of the philosophy of law ex- 
hibited in "The Merchant of Venice " when he was reviewing 
that play, must have been much below himself, not only at 
that time, but when he selected the above absurd travestie, or 
dog-law, as it might be called, as an evidence of Shakespeare's 
proficiency in law learning. 



The plot of this play is borrowed, according to Shake- 
speare's usual custom ; but the characters, having passed 
through the magical alembic of his mind, become distinct and 
breathing creatures, which are entirely his own. The story 
is taken from Lynde's " Eosalynd," or " Euphues' Golden Leg- 
acy,'' published in London as late 1590, and this play appears 
in 1600. Shakespeare, however, adds three new characters to it 
— those of Jaques, Audrey, and the Clown, while of the other 
characters it may be said, that the passage of them through 



"As You Like It? 153 

the hands of our poet is like the transmutation of base metals 
into gold. 

The first act of "As You Like It" opens by introducing 
Orlando, the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Bois, deceased, 
who is living in idle dependence upon his eldest brother Oliver, 
the heir of the estate. With Orlando appears an aged ser- 
vant who, when the latter is banished, resolves to follow his 
fortunes into exile in preference to remaining with the elder 
brother. This servant's name is Adam, and in the original 
story by Lynd he is represented to be an Englishman. 

The first act contains a scene in which Orlando wrestles 
with a professional athlete; and, of course, he overthrows 
the brawny boxer, as, according to all the laws of Shake- 
spearean discrimination, a young nobleman should do. This 
victory obtains for Orlando the favor of Rosalind, the daughter 
of the banished Duke, but through jealousy it gets Orlando 
banished. Rosalind, thereupon, puts on a disguise and follows 
him, and Celia (the daughter of the Duke), whose heart and 
Rosalind's have beaten in friendship against each other's ribs 
since the hour of their mutual truckle-bed, decides promptly 
to desert her father's court and go along with her. 

Faithful old Adam, of course, accompanies Orlando, and, 
inasmuch as the portrait of this old servitor may be said to be 
the solitary instance in the whole of Shakespeare's writings 
where a poor or an humble person escapes our poet's con- 
tempt, 1 I will give it in full. 

Oklando. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go ? 

Adam. No matter whither, so you stay not here. 

Oel. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? 

Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce 

A thievish living on the common road ? 

This I must do, or know not what to do; 

Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; 

I rather will subject me to the malice 

Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. 
Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred crowns, 

The thrifty hire I saved under your father, 

Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, 

1 There is one other quasi instance of a servant's faithfulness in u Ti- 
mon of Athens," but I will deal with that in its due order. 



154 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

When service should in my old limbs lie lame, 

And unregarded age in corners thrown ; 

Take that ; and He that doth the ravens feed, 

Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 

Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold — 

All this I give you ; let me be your' servant ; 

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty. 

For in my youth I never did apply 

Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood : 

Nor did not, with unbashful forehead, woo 

The means of weakness and debility ; 

Therefore, my age is as a lusty winter — 

Frosty, but kindly. Let me go with you; 

I'll do the service of a younger man 

In all your business and necessities. 
Oel. O, good old man ; how well in thee appears 

The constant service of the antique world, 

When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! 

Thou art not for the fashion of these times, 

"Where none will sweat but for promotion ; 

And having that, do choke their service up 

Even with the having: it is not so with thee. 

But, poor old man, thou prun'st a rotten tree 

That cannot so much as a blossom yield 

In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry. 

But come thy ways ; we'll go along together, 

And ere we have thy youthful wages spent 

We'll light upon some settled low content. 
Adam. Master, go on, and I will follow thee 

To the last gasp with truth and loyalty. 

From seventeen years, till now, almost fourscore, 

Here lived I, but now live here no more. 

At seventeen years, many their fortunes seek, 

But at fourscore it is too late a week ; 

Yet fortune can not recompense me better 

Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. 

This is the picture of a poor but grateful and very worthy 
man, and, from the style in which it is presented, can not fail 
to challenge our admiration. But there are three motives to 
be traced why, in this instance, Shakespeare has departed 
from his contemptuous rule against the poor. First, the ser- 
vant is an English servant, which is a natural inducement for 
our poet to represent him favorably ; next, Adam's fidelity 



"As You Like It? 155 

serves the constant Shakespearean purpose of inculcating loy- 
alty and obedience of servants to their masters, and for duty, 
not for pay ; but our poet's main object, doubtless, is to make 
Adam operate as a foil or stimulant to the superior virtues of 
the noble young Orlando, who is willing to fight a whole for- 
est full of people to obtain the old man food. Being exceed- 
ingly hungry himself, however, it is not difficult for us to ac- 
count for the savage determination which the young man 
exhibits in this enterprise. 

It is worthy of observation, however, that Shakespeare, 
having found this character of Adam ready made to his hand, 
could hardly exclude it from the plot ; and especially deserv- 
ing of our notice that, while, in the original story of Lynde, 
the faithfulness of Adam is rewarded, Shakespeare passes him 
out of his hands entirely without recompense. One of the 
early critics, noticing this fact, says : " Shakespeare has made 
an interesting use of Lynde's story, with the exception of the 
character of Adam, whose fidelity is strangely neglected ; 
whereas in Lynde's novel he is justly rewarded." 

Bearing further upon Shakespeare's estimation of the lower 
orders, we find the following, Act I, Scene 2 : 

1 Loed. Anon a careless herd, 

Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, 

And never stays to greet him. "Ay," quoth Jacques, 

" Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens ; 

'Tis just the fashion; wherefore do you look 

Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there ? " 

Among the internal evidences in this play of Shakespeare's 
religion, the first that comes before us is the use made by the 
Duke Frederick of the Catholic word purgation : " Thus do 
all traitors; if their purgation did consist in words"; but I 
admit that this evidence is a slight one. The next, however, 
which drops from the Duke, senior, in Act II, Scene -7, is a 
more distinctive Catholic symptom : 

Duke S. True is it that we have seen better days ; 

And have with holy bell been knoll'd to church. 

"We know, of course, that Protestant churches, like Catho- 
lic ones, summon their devotees together by the tolling of 



156 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

bells; but, while the Protestant bells are in themselves only 
an ordinary piece of unrespected church furniture, the church 
bells of the Catholics are always formally consecrated and 
blessed. A Protestant would never think of using such a 
term as "holy bell"; a Catholic could not think of a church 
bell without applying it. 

The next sign we have of Shakespeare's Catholicity in this 
play occurs in the third scene of the third act, where Touch- 
stone, the court clown, says to Audrey, the country wench : 

But be it as it may be, I will marry tbee : and to that end, I have been 
with Sir Oliver Mar-text, the vicar of the next village ; who hath prom- 
ised to meet me in this place of the forest, and to couple us. . . . Here 
oomes Sir Oliver — Sir Oliver Mar-text, you are well met: Will you des- 
patch us here under this tree, or shall we go with you to your chapel ? 

Sie Oliver. Is there none here to give the woman ? 

Touchstone. I will not take her on gift of any man. 

Sie Oliver. Truly, she must be given, or the marriage is not lawful. 

At this critical moment the cynical and philosophic Jaques 
appears from the covert, and says : 

Proceed, proceed : I'll give her. . . . Will you be married, motley? 

Touchstone. As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the 
falcon her bells, so man hath his desires ; and, as pigeons bill, so wedlock 
would be nibbling. 

Jaques. And will you, being a man of your breeding, be married under 
a bush, like a beggar ? Get you to church, and have a good priest that can 
tell you what marriage is ; this fellow will but join you together as they 
join wainscot; then, one of you will prove a shrunk panel, and, like green 
timber, warp, warp. 

Touchstone. I am not in the mind, but I were better to be married of 
him than another : for he is not like to marry me well, and not being well 
married, it will be a good excuse for me hereafter to leave my wife. 

Jaques. Go thou with me, and let me counsel thee. 

Touchstone. Farewell, good master Oliver ! 

Sir Oliver. 'Tis no matter ; ne'er a fantastical knave of th6m all shall 
flout me out of my calling. 

It is obvious that this sorry treatment of Sir Oliver by 
Shakespeare indicates that Sir Oliver is a Protestant preacher. 
In the next scene Eosalind says : 

" And his kissing is as full of sanctity as the touch of holy bread" 
"What Protestant would ever speak of holy bread ? 



"As You Like It? 157 

Oelia. He hath "bought a pair of cast lips of Diana : a nun of winter's 
sisterhood kisses not more religiously ; the very ice of chastity is in them. 

In these extracts we have the contrast clearly marked by 
Shakespeare's estimation, relatively, between a Protestant 
vicar and a Catholic priest; and in the latter, with its exqui- 
site definition of conventual purity, we have the spontaneous 
illustrations of a Catholic soul. 

There are but two further observations which I wish to 
make upon this play. The first is, that Rosalind is as much 
to be condemned for the impropriety of her language as Bea- 
trice in " Much Ado About Nothing " ; and, in this respect, is 
even less of a lady than Beatrice, though Shakespeare tries to 
make her more of one. Our next observation is, that wicked- 
ness, as represented in its most execrable form in Orlando's 
elder brother, is as hastily presented for the forgiveness of the 
audience, as in the cases of Proteus in the " Two Gentlemen 
of Verona," and of the fiend Angelo in u Measure for Mea- 
sure." The moral of the play is, therefore, not only bad, but, 
what is more to the point, does not indicate that professional 
sense of the necessities of retribution which might be expected 
from any real lawyer's mind. In my opinion, a lawyer like 
Bacon would never have dreamed of forgiving Oliver, Proteus, 
or Angelo. 

Lord Campbell nevertheless' finds several evidences of 
Shakespeare's familiarity with law practice or attorneyship in 
this play, such, for instance, as Rosalind's pert expression, in 
the first act, of u Be it known unto all men by these presents." 
His lordship next notices the words testam.ent and bankrupt, 
both applied by the poet only to a wounded deer, as indica- 
tions of Shakespeare's law attainment, and further on reen- 
forces his case by quoting the casual use of such words as 
attorney, and such phrases as term and term as applied to law- 
yer's habits; even lugging in the following, as applicable to 
his proof : 

Rosalind. Well, Time is the old Justice that examines all offenders, 
and let Time try. 

But what Lord Campbell dwells upon, as if conclusive of 
Shakespeare's possession of very considerable legal attain- 



158 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

ments, is " that the usurping Duke Frederick, who, wishing 
all the real property of Oliver to be seized, awards a writ of 
extent against him in language which would," says his lord- 
ship, " be used by the Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Ex- 
chequer : 

1 Duke Feed. Make an extent upon his house and lands.'' 

" This," continues his lordship, " is an extendi facias applying 
to houses and lands, as a fieri facias would apply to goods 
and chattels, or a capias ad satisfaciendum to the person." 
All of which learned and erudite observation, I beg to remark, 
goes to show the extent to which his lordship had become con- 
fused by his unusual literary task, rather than to prove any- 
thing else. 



"The Taming of the Shrew? 159 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



" The Taming of the Shrew " contributes nothing of im- 
portance to our inquiry. It is founded, says Malone, on an 
anonymous play of nearly the same title, " The Taming of a 
Shrew," which was probably written about the year 1590, 
either by George Peele or Robert Greene. Shakespeare pro- 
duced his play in 1597, and it was first printed in the folio 
of 1623. The outline of the Induction is supposed to have 
been taken from the " The Sleeper Awakened " of the "Ara- 
bian Nights." The feature which most strikes us on a general 
perusal is, that Katharina, the heroine, is not a grain more 
nice or modest in her language than Beatrice or Rosalind ; 
and thus contributes to the conviction that Shakespeare had 
had but poor opportunities of closely studying true ladies and 
their manners — a study in which Lord Bacon, as we have said 
before, doubtless had greatly the advantage of him. 

The play contains some evidences of the contempt our 
poet had for every one of lowly birth or humble calling. In 
the Induction, while a nobleman is amusing himself by mis- 
leading the drunken wits of Christopher Sly, a trumpet is 
heard, and a servant, who is commissioned to ascertain what it 
means, reports by ushering in a lot of players, whom my lord 
thus addresses : 

Loed. Now, fellows, you are welcome. 

Platers. "We thank your honour. 

Loed. Do you intend to stay with me to-night ? 

2 Playee. So please your lordship to accept our duty. 
Loed. "With all my heart. — This fellow I remember. 

Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, 



160 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

And give them friendly welcome every one : 
Let them want nothing that my house affords. 

This may fairly be charged, however, to the mean estima- 
tion in which players were held at the time. 

In Act IV, Scene 1, Petruchio, angrily addressing Gru- 
mio, his servant, exclaims, 

" You peasant swain ! you whoreson malt-horse drudge ! " 

And in Act V, Scene 2, Katharina folds her arms submissively 
across her breast and bows as if before anointed royalty : 

Kathakina. Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such, a women oweth to her husband. 

Lord Campbell finds many evidences in " The Taming of 
the Shrew " of our poet's knowledge of the law. He says 
that in the Induction Shakespeare betrays an intimate knowl- 
edge of the matters which may be prosecuted as offenses be- 
fore the Court Leet, the lowest court of criminal judicature 
in England. "We quote his lordship : 

" He " (Shakespeare) " puts the following speech into the 
mouth of a servant, who is trying to persuade Sly he is a 
great lord, and that he has been in a dream for fifteen years, 
during which time he had ignorantly imagined himself to be 
a mere frequenter of ale-houses : 

' For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, 
Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door, 
And rail upon the hostess of the house, 
And say you would present her at the leet, 
Because she drought stone jugs, and no seaVd quarts.'' 

" [Now, in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I," says his- 
lordship, " there was a very wholesome law, that for the pro- 
tection of the public against * false measures,' ale should be 
sold only in sealed vessels of the standard capacity ; and the 
violation of the law was to be presented at the £ Court Leet/ 
or ' View of Frankpledge,' held in every hundred, manor, or 
lordship, before the steward of the leet." 

His lordship finds his next proof of Shakespeare's law in 
Scene 2 of Act I, where Tranio says, 



"Love's Labour's Lost? 161 

"Please ye, we may contrive this afternoon, 
And quaff carouses to our mistress' health ; 
And do as adversaries do in law, 
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends." 

Really, it would seem as if some of the admiring commen- 
tators of our poet labor at times to prove him to have been 
not much above a simpleton. Nothing can be more evident 
than that any Englishman of his time, of ordinary intelli- 
gence, must have had the stone-jug law forced upon his 
observation a hundred times, and particularly in a country 
town like Stratford ; while the fictitious quarrels of paid 
advocates have been the subject of every yokel's joke since 
proceedings at law were first made public. Lord Campbell 
finally points to Katharina's use of the word craven, with the 
remark that " All lawyers know craven to be the word spoken 
by a champion who acknowledged he was beaten, and de- 
clared that he would fight no more, whereupon judgment 
was immediately given against the side which he supported, 
and he bore the infamous name of craven for the rest of his 
days.'' 

I doubt if any reader will require a word from me to 
rebut this sort of argument. 



This play is one of the few that were published during 
Shakespeare's lifetime, the date of its appearance in print 
being fixed at 1598. It is one of the weakest of our poet's 
productions ; and, if he had been asked for the plot of it, 
says Knight, he might have answered, anticipating Canning's 
knife-grinder, "Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, 
sir." Dr. Johnson declares it to be filled with passages that 
are " mean, childish and vulgar, and some which ought not 
to have been exhibited, as we are told they were, to a maiden 
queen." " Nevertheless," adds the Doctor, " there are scat- 
tered through the whole many sparks of genius: nor is there 
any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shake- 
speare." 

11 



v 



1 62 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The scene is laid in Navarre, but there is no period as- 
signed for the story, which seems to have a roving commis- 
sion, ranging anywhere through the fifteenth to the seven- 
teenth century. The first lines which attract our attention 
are those by which the Princess of France repels a fulsome 
compliment paid to her by her Lord Chamberlain, and which 
contain a contemptuous estimation of persons engaged in 
trade : 

Peinoess. Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean, 
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise ; 
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
Not utter'd oy oase sale of chapman's tongues. 

The next is a law phrase by one of the Princess's ladies : 
"My lips are no common, though several they be." 

In Act IV, Scene 2, we have the introduction of Sir Na- 
thaniel, a foolish parson or curate, and of Holofernes, his 
friend, a Protestant pedant. Sir Nathaniel characterizes 
himself by saying to Holofernes : 

Sie Nathaniel. I praise the Lord for you ; and so may my parishion- 
ers ; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very 
greatly under you. 

Again, the peasants Jaquenetta and Costard call Sir Na- 
thaniel "good master parson." Shakespeare treats both of 
these characters with contemptuous levity. Finally they are 
made the derision of the lords and ladies, and the butt of 
their scurrilous wit in a foolish dramatic personation of the 
" Nine "Worthies," in which the insults of the courtly audi- 
ence are so mean and merciless that Holofernes, who is a 
kindly, worthy man, complains against the outrage with an 
earnest gentleness so absolutely touching, that, if the lords 
and ladies had possessed any sense of shame, the reproach 
would have covered them with blushes. Being called an ass 
while reciting to the best of his ability, he thus appeals : 
"This is not generous; not gentle; not humble." 

Instead, however, of feeling this rebuke, the scorn of the 
courtiers rapidly grows coarser. Shakespeare never subjects 
his monks and priests to this kind of insult. 



"Love's Labour's Lost!' 163 

The Princess and her maids of honor, Rosaline, Maria, 
and Katharine, are all of the Beatrice and Katharina stamp, 
and their language is frequently of such a licentious character 
that it could not be intrusted to modern print outside of the 
tolerated leaves of Shakespeare. The only shadow of excuse 
I can find for our poet in this respect is that Rabelais, whom 
he quotes in " As You Like It," was then in the height of his 
obscene popularity, and had, to a certain extent, vilely in- 
fected much of the literary mind of Europe. Happily, few 
"but mere scholars read that singularly objectionable though 
very accomplished writer now. 

The law phrase which I have pointed out above — 

" My lips are no common, though several they be,' 1 

— seems to have escaped the observation of Lord Campbell; 
but he gives us in recompense the following from the first 
act: 

" In Act I, Scene 1," says his lordship, " we have an 
extract from the report by Don Adriano de Arm ado of the 
infraction he had witnessed of the King's proclamation by 
Costard with Jaquenetta, and it is drawn up in the true 
lawyer-like, tautological dialect — which is to be paid for at 
so much a folio : 

" Then for the place where ; where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene 
and most preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white pen the 
ebon-coloured ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyesl, or seest. . . . 
Him I {as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on) have sent to thee, to re- 
ceive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet grace's officer, Antony Dull ; a 
man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation. 

" The gifted Shakespeare," adds his lordship, " might per- 
haps have been capable, by intuition, of thus imitating the 
conveyancer's jargon ; but no ordinary man could have hit it 
off so exactly without having engrossed in an attorney's 
office." 

Finally, our poet, having got through with his gibes and 
his jeers, his oblique morality, hi3 obscene wit, and his merci- 
less roasting of the Frotestants, uncovers his reserved monas- 
tery, which he always seems to have cosily wrapped in a 



164 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

handkerchief, and sets it down reverently and complacently 
before us : 

Princess. Your oath I will not trust ; but go with speed 
To some forlorn and nalced hermitage, 
Remote from all the pleasures of the world ; 
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs 
Have Drought about their annual reckoning : 
If this austere insocidble life 
Change not your offer made in heat of blood ; 
Tf frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds, 
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love, 
But that it bear this trial and last love ; 
Then, at the expiration of the year, 
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts, 
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine, 
I will be thine ; and, till that instant, shut 
My woeful self up in a mourning house; 
Eaining the tears of lamentation, 
For the remembrance of my father's death. 
If this thou do deny, let our hands part ; 
Neither intitled in the other's heart. 

This grand coup in favor of a monastery and a convent 
closes up the play. Be it observed, however, that the intro- 
duction of neither of these holy houses is necessary to the 
year's postponement ; the death of the father of the Princess 
being sufficient in itself for that furlough of the action. 



"A IPs Well that Ends Well? 165 



CHAPTER XIX. 



The story of this play was taken by Shakespeare from the 
romantic story in Boccaccio called " Giletta of Narbon " ; 
though it came immediately to our poet's hand, says Dr. 
Farmer, from Paynter's " Palace of Pleasure," printed in 
1575. Shakespeare transposed its scenes, adding the four char- 
acters of Parolles, Lafeu, the Countess, and the Clown, which, 
under his magical wand, have been made, with the exception 
of Helena, the most interesting characters of the dramatis per- 
son®. The play was published, according to the best accounts, 
about the year 1598, under the title of " Love's Labour's Won," 
and was doubtless intended to be an offset or counterpart to 
"Love's Labour's Lost." It was reproduced in 1601-'2 under 
the new title of "All's Well that Ends Well," which renam- 
ing was suggested and justified by the words of Helena, to- 
ward the close : 

"AIVs well that ends well: still the fine's the crown; 
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown." 

She again uses the same expression in Act Y, Scene 1 ; while 
the King in his last speech closes with "All yet seems well." 
The phrase finally appears in the epilogue, under the form of 
"All is well ended'''' — though this might have been written in 
at the time of reproduction, in order to give the change of 
title a still further warrant. 

The story of the piece is very simple. The King is ill 
with an incurable disease, and is fast wearing to the grave, 
to the unbounded regret of all his subjects. Helena, the 



1 66 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

heroine, is the daughter of Gerard de !N~arbon, who in his life- 
time was the most eminent physician in the kingdom, and had 
the honor of the King's personal friendship. Helena, though 
poor, has therefore rank enough to be a gentlewoman, and as 
such is taken under the protection of the Countess of Rousil- 
lon, the mother of Bertram, of whom she becomes enamored. 
She is prudent enough, however, to conceal her love, in con- 
sequence of the difference in degree between herself and that 
high-born noble. She worships Bertram, therefore, only as 
the Indian does the sun, without hope of getting possession of 
him, until she suddenly bethinks her of some secret remedies 
left by her father, one of which happens fortunately to be a 
specific for the King's disease. She then conceives the idea 
of going to the King and agreeing to restore him to health 
within eight days, at the risk of her own life, provided he will 
confer upon her the hand of such one as she may select of the 
young feudal lords of his court, who are in ward to liim. She 
succeeds in restoring the King, and thereupon chooses Ber- 
tram. The proud young lord resists the match, but, being 
forced to it, at once absconds to the Italian wars, ordering his 
new wife to Rousillon at the hour of his departure, under the 
pretense that he will meet her there within two days. Helena 
obeys him without suspicion ; but, on her arrival at Rousillon,. 
finds that the Countess, his mother, has received from him the 
following letter : 

"I have sent you a daughter-in-law : she hath recovered the king, and 
undone me. I have icedded her, not tedded her ; and sworn to make the 
1 not ' eternal. You shall hear, I am run away ; know it before the report 
come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. 
My duty to you." 

Helena also finds a letter awaiting herself, which contains 
the following challenge to her desires : 

"When thou canst get the ring upon my finger which never shall come 
of, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then- 
call me husband: but to such a then / write a never." 

Helena, whom Dowden characterizes as the very embodi- 
ment of will, and who he thinks would even be enfeebled by 
male attire, does not hesitate to accept the immodest chal- 



"AWs Well that Ends Well." 167 

lenge. She starts promptly after Bertram to Italy, leaving 
behind her a letter to the Countess, which again brings in our 
poet's pet idea of a convent and of Catholic discipline, though 
here again this must be excused to the habits of the age. 

" I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone : 
Ambitious love hath so in me offended, 
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground upon, 
With sainted vow my faults to have amended. 

Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far 
His name with zealous fervour sanctify." 

The enterprising lady finds Bertram in Florence, where 
the Duke has already made him Master of Horse, or com- 
mander-in-chief of all the cavalry in the field. He has thus 
become a hero, but, under the influence of a dissolute favorite 
(Parolles), he lives, in his hours of relaxation, a most licentious 
life. Among the exploits of this portion of his career, he at- 
tempts the seduction of a young lady of good family, named 
Diana Capulet, in whose house Helena has accidentally taken 
up her temporary residence, as a pilgrim to Saint Jaques le 
Grand. This illicit suit of Bertram's comes to the ears of 
Helena, who thereupon, explaining to the Capulet family who 
she is, succeeds in inducing Diana to make an assignation, by 
which Bertram may at midnight obtain access to her cham- 
ber, in order that, favored by the dark, she (Helena) may take 
her place. The following briefly tells this portion of the 
story : 

Diana. Give me that ring. 

Bee. I'll lend'it thee, my dear, but have no power 

To give it from me. 
Dia. Will yon not, my lord ? 

Bee. It is an honour 'longing to our house, 

Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 

"Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 

In me to lose. 
Dia. Mine honour's such a ring : 

My chastity's the jewel of our house, 

Bequeathed down from many ancestors; 

Which were the greatest obloquy i' the world 

In me to lose : Thus your own proper wisdom 



1 68 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Brings in the champion honour on my part, 
Against your vain assault. 

Bee. Here, take my ring : 

My house, mine honour, yea, ray life be thine, 
And I'll be bid by thee. 

Dia. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window ; 
I'll order take, my mother shall not hear. 
Now will I charge you in the band of truth, 
"When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, 
Kemain there but an hour, nor speak to me: 
My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them 
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd : 
And on your finger, in the night, I'll put 
Another ring ; that, what in time proceeds, 
May token to the future our past deeds. 
Adieu, till then ; then, fail not. 

This plot (which is the old artifice practied by Isabella 
and Mariana upon Angelo in "Measure for Measure") is suc- 
cessful, and Helena's marriage is consummated according to 
the tenor of the challenge. Moreover, the whole contract is 
fulfilled by Helena, who not only secures Bertram's monu- 
mental ring, but succeeds, when the shabby fellow would have 
regained it from her in the dark, by replacing it with the 
royal signet ring which the grateful King had given her. 
After this singular nuptial rite is consummated, a scene takes 
place (Act IV, Scene 3), in whicb two lords, who have just 
arrived from France to inform Bertram of Helena's death, 
thus religiously deliver themselves : 

1 Lord. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house: 
her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand, which holy under- 
taking, with most austere sanctimony, she accomplished ; and, there resid- 
ing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief ; in fine, 
made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. 

That these gentlemen performed their mission by deliver- 
ing to Bertram the news of his wife's death, is seen in the fol- 
lowing expression of his joy at the sad event and self-gratula- 
tion at his supposed success with Diana : 

Bee. I have to-night despatched sixteen businesses, a month's length 
a-piece, by an abstract of success: I have congied with the duke, done 
my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourned for her; writ to my 



u Alfs Well that Ends Well? 169 

lady mother, I am returning ; entertained my convoy ; and, between these 
main parcels of despatch, effected many nicer deeds; the last was the 
greatest^ but that I have not ended yet. 

He does not succeed, however, in getting a new interview 
with Diana, while Helena, having remained long enough in 
Florence to assure herself that her nuptial interview with 
Bertram had been fully blessed as she desired, takes Diana 
and that young lady's mother under her protection, as wit- 
nesses of what had been performed, and with them sets out 
for France. The Italian war being over, Bertram, about the 
same time, also starts for home, and, taking the direct route, 
post haste, arrives there first. His calculations are, that the 
renown he had won in Italy, along with the influence of his 
mother, now that his wife is supposed to be dead, may obtain 
the forgiveness of the King. In this he is correct, but, just 
as he is about being betrothed by his majesty to a new 
lady, Diana and her mother, who, meantime, have arrived, 
are ushered into the King's presence to stop proceedings. 
Bertram, however, does not hesitate to imitate the detestable 
perfidy of Angelo, by denouncing Diana as "a common crea- 
ture of the camp," with whom he "had sometimes laughed." 
But, in due time, Helena comes in to clear the matter up, by 
a bold avowal, before the entire court, of the active part which 
she has borne in this most vulgar performance. Bertram is 
immediately forgiven by the King, in order that Helena may 
be made happy ; while Diana Capulet is recompensed for the 
very questionable help she rendered Helena in the midnight 
encounter by having one of the King's young noblemen as- 
signed to her. And thus all ends well, save the sorry soiling 
which these young ladies suffered through their dirty paths. 1 

Nevertheless, such are the caprices of Shakespearean critics 
and commentators, that Coleridge, one of the ablest of them, 



1 Of the character of Bertram, Dr. Johnson says: "I can not recon- 
cile my heart to Bertram ; a man noble without generosity, and young 
without truth ; who married Helena as a coward and leaves her as a pro- 
fligate. When she is dead by his un kindness, he sneaks home to a second 
marriage; is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himselt 
by falsehood, and is dismissed to happiness." 



170 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

regards Helena as " the loveliest of Shakespeare's characters." 1 
For my part, I can not regard her as anything but an amor- 
ous Amazon, who, while living beside Bertram at the Castle 
of Rousillon, had kindled from the mere magnetism of his 
physical neighborhood, and pursued till she possessed him. 
She hits upon the cure of the King merely as a medium of 
her desires, and so frank is she with her motive that she 
admits it to the Countess : 

" My lord your son made me to think of this, 
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king 
Had from the conversation of my thoughts 
Happily been absent." 

EIze, like Coleridge, tells us that Helena is valued " on ac- 
count of her moral purity, her honesty, her clear understand- 
ing, her devotion, and her beauty " ; and he calls our attention 
to the fact that, as soon as the "masculine activity" which 
was inspired by her object had been attained, "she relapses 
into the unselfish humility of a woman," and becomes entirely 
passive to her lord. Now, it strikes me, that just such a de- 
velopment of tranquillity as hers may be seen in every case, 
when a desperate energy has been completely satisfied. I. 
may be thonght harsh, after all that has been written of the 
delicate loftiness of Helena's character by so many critics ; 
but I have a purpose that must not be baffled by the halo 
which surrounds our poet's genius, nor awed by the apparent 
authority of commentators who are mere devotees around a 
shrine. For the correctness of my measurement of the morals 
of this bold and unscrupulous young woman I refer the reader 
especially to the shocking dialogue in which she indulges with 
that filthy camp-follower, Parolles, in the very first scene she 
presents herself before the audience. Though she knows this 
fellow to be an unprincipled scoundrel and notorious debau- 
chee, she opens an obscene conversation with him in a cor- 
ner, and encourages it so grossly that every reader of. the 
slightest moral sensibility must shrink at it with irrepressible 
disgust. It can not be reprinted even for illustration, and 
with those who peruse the text the conclusion is irresistible 
that a young woman who could find agreeable pastime in 



"AlPs Well that Ends Well." 171 

such lascivious allusions must have pushed after Bertram on 
pure material impulsion and contrived his assignation with 
Diana under the smoldering stimulation of the same coarse 
fire. It is not too much to say, that it is doubtful if any 
domicile in England or America where unfortunate females 
make a residence could be found at which such language as 
Helena uses to Parolles would be encouraged. Well might 
Mrs. Jameson, while erroneously subscribing to " the beauty 
of the character of Helena," denounce the details which sur- 
round her " as shocking to our feelings." And well, also, may 
the wise Gervinus confess, at the end of all his panegyric, 
that "few readers, and still fewer female readers, will believe 
in Helena's womanly nature," even after they have read his 
explanations and have found them indisputable. 

The above analysis of the character of Helena brings us 
again to the comprehension of the difficulty which Shake- 
speare always experienced when endeavoring to portray a 
lady. As far as we have now followed him, through twelve 
of his comedies, he has not yet been successful in one deline- 
ation. Miranda, who is gentle, pure, and beautiful, is a mere 
filmy and poetic dream. Isabella is a spotless and celestial 
grandeur ; the rest of his girls are a crude, rude, hoyden, 
rowdy set, with a bar sinister always running through their 
composition. Helena is a woman, it is true, but a woman of 
a stripe which the courtly Bacon would hardly have pre- 
sented to us as a lady. It is the Countess to whom we are 
indebted for our extravagant estimation of the purity of 
Helena's character; but, had that most excellent old lady 
heard her lewd fencing-match with the profligate Parolles, 
she would not have expressed such an opinion of her purity 
again. 

Upon the point of the religion of Shakespeare, as exhib- 
ited in the text of this play, we have already had two illus- 
trations, one in Helena's letter of departure, and another in 
the allusion made by two lords to the holy pilgrimage she 
made to the shrine of St. Jaques le Grand. We find still 
another in their reference to her subsequent and saint-like 
death. Bertram has also the reverential line, 

"Although before the solemn priest I have sworn," 



172 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

and the widow Capulet says to Helena, 

" Come, pilgrim, I will bring you 
Where you shall host : of enjoined penitents 
There's four or five, to great St. Jaques bound, 
Already at my house." 

The Clown gives out religious symptoms also. In Act I, 
Scene 3, he says : 

" If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in 
marriage : for young Charbon, the Puritan, and old Poyson, the Papist, 
howsoever their hearts are severed in religion, their heads are both one. 
They may jowl horns together, like any deer i' the herd." 

Here is a happy equality of derision, which makes the 
clown distinctly a neutral in doctrine ; so that, when he 
comes to say, afterward, u Though honesty be no Puritan, 
yet it will do no hurt ; it will wear the surplice of humility 
over the black gown of a big heart " ; and with a still more 
ribald tongue utters the contrasted scandal of — 

"As the nun's lip to the friar's mouth." 

The manner in which these reflections are balanced, between 
both sects, makes them of no absolute significance. Nothing 
is more likely, however, than that this last expression is the 
interpolation of some actor, compiler, or small printer; for 
it is thoroughly well known that introductions of this sort, 
which were intended to hit simply the humor of the hour, 
were always numerous in the Shakespeare text, from one 
source and another. In the face, therefore, of our poet's 
invariable reverence for the Roman Catholic clergy — for this 
is the sole instance (save one, in " King John " which I have 
already discussed) in all of our poet's works where friars are 
alluded to with levity or reprobation — this motley quip must, 
therefore, pass for little. Still, I do not believe it to be 
Shakespeare's line. The number of the "Catholic Progress," 
of London, for April, 1875, remarks upon this subject : " If 
a ribald clown finds a fitness between ' a nun's lip and a 
friar's mouth,' it is no proof that Shakespeare himself be- 
lieved it was the ordinary thing for the religious of both sexes 
to use improper familiarities with each other. Things which 



"All's Well that Ends Welir 173 

suit a certain character he is not particular about saying, even 
though they do, in some measure, pamper vulgar prejudices 
against the faith." 

Legal Evidences. 

As to the legal acquirements of Shakespeare, so far as this 
play is concerned, Lord Campbell finds a striking proof in 
the incident where the King claims to dispose of the hands in 
marriage of certain feudal lords, under what is known as the 
tenure of chivalry. This tenure created a wardship of mi- 
nors, to which class, it appears, Bertram belonged. I do not 
see, however, why Shakespeare could not have learned as 
much as this from Holinshed, or from the current dramatic 
works and histories of his time. In his absorption of mind 
on the above point, the Lord Chief Justice seems to have 
quite overlooked a speech which our poet puts into the mouth 
of Parolles, in Act IY, Scene 3. 

Pa.eolle9. Sir, for a quart d'ecu he will sell the fee simple of his sal- 
vation : the inheritance of it, and cut the entailment from all remainders 
and a perpetual succession of it, in perpetuity. 

Having, however, escaped his lordship's legal learning on 
this subject, I have not the slightest intention to inflict on 
the reader my views upon it. 



174 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEK XX. 

" TWELFTH NIGHT ; OK, WHAT YOIT WILL." 

The date of the production of this play is fixed, pretty 
satisfactorily, at 1601-'2, and the origin of the serious portion 
of the story is ascribed to a novel, from the Italian, by Ban- 
dello. It is one of Shakespeare's most perfect and charming 
comedies, and seems to owe its title to the fact of its having 
been performed first, either on Twelfth Night, or during the 
convivial season of Shrovetide. The title appears, however, to 
have been of so small a consideration to the author, that he 
practically leaves it to the reader, or, rather, to his audience, 
by adding to its first title that of, "What You Will"; or, 
as Dowden suggests, " Anything You Like to Call It." It 
contributes numerous illustrations to our inquiry, but more 
especially to the point of the probable religion of Shakespeare, 
than upon any other. Upon this its marks are very strong. 
Hunter, 1 an able and most reliable authority, is of the opinion 
that the main purpose of this play was "to bring into disre- 
pute certain transactions of a party of Puritans, who, in 1599, 
made themselves very offensive by some popular delusions, 
which had taken a strong hold of the public mind." Hunter, 
therefore, believes it was the design of Shakespeare to satirize 
that sect in the person of Malvolio, " a person not moved to 
cheerfulness by any innocent jest, who casts a malign look 
upon every person and everything around him, and who, 

1 "Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare," by Joseph Hunter, a 
Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries and Assistant Keeper of the Publio 
Records. London, 1845. 



"Twelfth Night; or, What You Will? 175 

under a show of humility, hides a proud and tyrannical 
heart. ... It was intended," he continues, " that Malvolio 
should be of a formal, grave, and solemn demeanor, and, as to 
his attire, dressed with a Quaker-like plainness, which would 
heighten the comic effect when he afterward decked himself 
with all manner of finery when he sought to please, as he 
supposed, his mistress." Finally, says Hunter, " Though in 
other plays of Shakespeare we have indirect and sarcastical re- 
marks on the opinions or practices by which the Puritan party 
in the Reformed Church of England were distinguished, it is 
in this play that we have his grand attack upon them. Here, 
in fact, there is a systematic design of holding them up to 
ridicule, and of exposing to public odium what appeared to 
him to be the dark features in the Puritan character. ... In 
Malvolio's character, Shakespeare's intention was to make the 
Puritan odious ; in the stratagem of which he is the victim, 
to make him ridiculous." 

We have seen for ourselves that Shakespeare distinctly 
indulges this design against the Puritan preacher and pedant 
in " As You Like It," while, in direct contrast, he expresses 
the greatest respect and reverence for Catholic clergymen 
and the Catholic faith. The same contrasted expression will 
be found in the play before us. The first line we have exhib- 
iting this fact is an allusion, by one of the courtiers of the 
love-sick Duke, to Olivia, who, still mourning at the end of 
several years for her only brother's death, has refused to re- 
ceive a love-message from his Grace : 

Valentine. So please my Lord, I might not be admitted, 

But from her handmaid do return this answer; 
The element itself, till seven years' heat, 
Shall not behold her face at ample view ; 
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk: 
.... all this, to season 
A dead brother's love. 

Again, in Act II, Scene 3, we have the following : 

Sir Toby Belch, Maria, and Sir Andrew. 
Sir To. Possess us, possess us ; tell us something of him. 
Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind of Puritan. 
Sir And. O, if I thought that, I'd beat him like a dog. 



176 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Sir To. What, for being a Puritan ? Thy exquisite reason, dear knight? 

Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for't, but I have reason good 
enough. 

Mar. The devil a Puritan that lie is, or anything constantly but a time- 
pleaser ; an affection'd ass. 

In Act IY, Scene 2, we have the following : 

Sir Toby Belch, Maria, and Clown as Sir Topas the parson, with 
Malvolio locked up in an adjoining darh room. 

Sir To. Jove bless thee, master parson. 

Clown (as Sir T.). Bonos dies, Sir Toby ; for, as the old hermit of 
Prague, that never saw pen and ink, very wittily said to a niece of King 
Gorbocluc, That, that is, is; so I, being master parson, am master parson^ 
For what is that, but that? and is, but is? 

Sir To. To him, Sir Topas, 

Clown (as Sir T.). What ho, I say — peace in this prison! 

Sir To. The knave counterfeits well: a good knave. 

Mal. (in an inner chamber). Who calls there ? 

Clown. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to visit Malvolio, the lunatic. 

Immediately succeeding this, and in the very next scene, 
in respectful contrast with the Puritan paces of the mock Sir 
Topas, Olivia, falling in with Yiola, the twin sister of Sebas- 
tian, while Yiola was still in male attire, again mistakes the 
latter for the brother. Yiola, of course, denies the conjugal 
impeachment, whereupon, losing her patience, Olivia sends- 
for the priest who had just married her and Sebastian. 

Oliv. Call forth the holy father. 

Enter Attendant and Priest. 

O, welcome, father! 
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence, 
Here to nnfold (though lately we intended 
To keep in darkness, what occasion now 
Reveals before 'tis ripe) what thou dost know, 
Hath newly pass'd between this youth and me. 

Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 

Confirm ] d by mutual joinder of your hands. 

Attested by the holy close of lips, 

Strengthened by interchangement of your rings ; 

And all the ceremony of this compact 

SeaVd in my function by my testimony : 

Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my grave 

I have travell'd but two hours. 



"A Winter's Tale!' 177 

1 

This is an exact and technical description of a Catholic 
marriage, which ceremony, unlike the Protestant ritual, is re- 
garded as a sacrament by the Latin Church. The same forms 
are observable in the cases of Benedick and Beatrice, and are 
also alluded to in " Romeo and Juliet." 

There is one circumstance which I can not refrain from 
noticing before disposing of this play, though it is rather out 
of the line of my inquiry. I allude to the compliment which 
Shakespeare more than once pays to gray eyes — eyes of this 
color, during the whole of the Elizabethan period, were re- 
garded as a distinguishing mark of female beauty; because, of 
course, the eyes of Queen Elizabeth were gray. Shakespeare 
first confers these eyes upon Julia in the " Two Gentlemen of 
Yerona " ; he next gives them to Thisbe, by a hint in " Romeo 
and Juliet " ; but he lodges them squarely, and with distinct 
significance, upon Olivia, his paragon of beauty. In her own 
inventory of her charms, as playfully given to Yiola, Olivia 
says : 

"I will give out divers schedules of my beauty. It shall be invento- 
ried ; and every particle and utensil labelled to my will — as, item, two lips 
indifferent red ; item, two gray eyes with lids to them ; item, one neck, 
one chin, and so forth." 

The inventory being thus summed up, the following ex- 
quisite lines occur : 

Viola. 'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white 

Nature's own sweet aud cunning hand laid on: 
Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, 
If you will lead these graces to the grave, 
And leave the world no copy. 

Act 7, Scene 5. 

I have but to add that Lord Chief Justice Campbell finds 
no evidences of the legal acquirements of Shakespeare in 
« Twelfth Night, or What You Will." 



This play is one of the most finished of Shakespeare's 
pieces. It is pretty well ascertained that it was written as 
12 



178 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

late as 1610, six years before our poet's death, and was played 
in the following year. It was not published, however, until 
the folio of 1623. We have the old story again about the 
plot, which, it is agreed on all sides, was taken from the 
"Pleasant History of Dorastus and Fawina," a novel, pub- 
lished in 1588 by Thomas Green, and subsequently named 
" Pandosto." Shakespeare has altered the names of the char- 
acters ; he has also added the parts of Antigonus, Paulina, 
and Autolycus, and suppressed some circumstances in the 
original story. In other respects, he has adhered closely to 
the novel. The errors of representing Bohemia as a maritime 
country, with a sea-coast, and Delphos as an island, are not, 
however, " attributable to Shakespeare," says Harness, " but 
to the original from which he copied." Such geographical 
blunders could hardly have proceeded from Lord Bacon, who 
was not only too learned a scholar, but had been too much of a 
traveler to be their victim. 

The story of " A Winter's Tale " is one of jealousy ; a jeal- 
ousy deeper, more intense, more unreasoning, more capricious, 
and, if possible, more baseless than the madness of " Othello " ; 
and no one can read the character of Leontes along with that 
of Othello without coming to the conclusion that our poet's 
own bosom, under the deceptions of some London traitress, 
had been the boiling fountain of the lines : 

" That cuckold lives in bliss, 
Who, certain of his fate, loves not Ms wronger, 
But 0, what damned minutes tells lie o'er 
Who dotes yet doubts, suspects yet strongly loves ! " 

The first expressions in "A Winter's Tale " bearing upon 
our points are those of Leontes to Camillo, in the second scene 
of the first act, where the former, just imbued with suspicions 
against Hermione, is beginning to meditate the murder of 
Polixenes. These lines themselves may be said to emit a dim 
religious light : 

" I have trusted thee, Camillo, 
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well 
My chamber councils ; wherein, priest-like, thou 
Mast cleansed my bosom ; I from thee departed, 
Thy penitent reformed." 



"A Winter's Tale." 179 

The next instance is an allusion by the Clown to the com- 
pany which are coming to grace Perdita's rural party. After 
conning them over, he says : 

" There is but one Puritan among them, arid he sings psalms to hornpipes." 

Further on, Perdita's supposed father, an old shepherd, 
having been threatened by Polixenes with death, thus mourns 

his fate : 

"But now 
Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me 
Where no priest shovels in dust.'''' 

Our next illustration bears upon Shakespeare's adoration 
of princes, and his contrasted estimation of ordinary people: 

Camillo. To do this deed, 

Promotion follows. If I could find example 
Of thousands that had struck anointed Icings 
And flourish'd after, I'd not do it; but since 
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, 
Let villainy itself forswear't. 

"Upon this passage," says Hunter, "Sir "William Black- 
stone founded an argument to prove that i A "Winter's Tale ' 
' could not have been written in the reign of Elizabeth, inas- 
much as she was one who had struck, not an anointed king, 
indeed, but an anointed queen, in the person of the Queen 
of Scots.' " Let me take this occasion to say that, if this ar- 
gument of Blackstone's be good to exhibit the repugnance of 
Elizabeth, how much stronger must the allusion have operated 
as a repulsion to Bacon (had he been the writer of this play), 
who wrung from Elizabeth her reluctant consent to Mary's 
execution. 

Further on, in Act IT, Polixenes, having discovered that 
his son, Prince Florizel, is engaged in marriage to Perdita, 
the lost daughter of Leontes (yet supposed to be a shepherd 
ess), thus berates him for the baseness of his yearnings : 

" Mark your divorce, young sir, 
"Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base 
To be acknowledged. Thou, a sceptre's heir, 
That thus afiect'st a sheep-hook! .. . . 
And thou, fresh piece] . 



180 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Of excellent witchcraft, who, of force, must know 
The royal fool thou cop'st with, 

I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briers, and made 
More homely than thy state. . . . 

If ever, henceforth, thou 

These rural latches to his entrance open, 
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 
I will devise a death as cruel for thee 
As thou art tender to't." 

It being discovered soon after, however, that Perdita is a 
king's daughter, we at once hear of — 

"The majesty of the creature, in resemblance of the mother; the af- 
fection of nobleness, which nature shows above her breeding; and many 
other evidences proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the king's daugh- 
ter." 

In contrast to the above strain I pass to the remark of 
Autolycus, who says to the Shepherd and Clown, when they 
are relating their original discovery of the babe Perdita, 

" Let me have no lying ; it becomes none but tradesmen.' 1 '' 

I may add, at this point, that our poet makes one of the gen- 
tlemen at the court of Polixenes speak of Ginlio Romano, the 
celebrated Italian painter (who was the Raphael of Shake- 
peare's day), as a sculptor — a mistake which the traveled and 
scholarly Sir Francis Bacon could hardly have fallen into. 

Perdita every one will be happy to recognize as the purest 
and sweetest female character, who, at the same time, par- 
takes of the gentle, genial qualities of breathing woman, which 
our poet has yet drawn. Her language is exquisitely beauti- 
ful, and effuses from her like the breath of an angel, filled at 
the same time with the wholesome warmth of a woman. She 
never ceases to be a shepherdess while figuring as one, but, 
though she seems to be dipped in fresh milk and to smell of 
the meadow, the inimitable grace imparted by a perfect nature 
makes her move among her companions like a sylvan goddess. 
So thoroughly imbued is she with the spirit of modesty that, 
though given to the culture of all sorts of flowers, she refuses 
to illegitimately graft 

"A gentler scion to the wildest stock," • - 



"A Winter's Tale." 181 

because this process shocks her sense of propriety. Polixenes 
reasons to her in favor of grafting contrasted plants as 

An art 

"Which does mend nature, — change it rather': but 

The art itself is nature. 
Peedita. So it is. 
Polixenes. Then make your garden rich in gilliflowers, 

And do not call them bastards. 
Peedita. I'll not put 

The dibble in earth to set one slip of them ; 

No more than, were I painted, I would wish 

This youth should say, 'twere well. 

That there is no prudery in this, but only a natural deli- 
cacy of soul, we are warranted in believing from the invol- 
untary caution which she gives her foster-brother, the Clown, 
when he announces that he is about to bring in to her feast, 
with his peddler's pack, that ribald rogue and pickpocket, 
Autolycus, to sell his wares and at the same time to sing for 
the party — 

" Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in's tunes." 

"With this we kiss Perdita, and reluctantly take leave of her ; 
pausing only upon the previous matter to remark, that the 
one person of the dramatis jpersonce of " A Winter's Tale " 
who all the while meets with the most unvarying prosperity, 
even in the perpetration of his crimes, to say nothing of the 
tranquil enjoyment of their profits, is the pickpocket, liar, and 
profligate, Autolycus ! Truly, this again revives our suspi- 
cions that Shakespeare, though he possibly had a good heart, 
was but lightly burdened with moral principle or conscience. 

On the subject of the legal acquirements of Shakespeare, as 
exhibited in " A Winter's Tale," Lord Chief Justice Campbell 
Bays: 

" There is an allusion in Act I, Scene 2, to a piece of Eng- 
lish law procedure which, although it might have been en- 
forced till very recently, could hardly be known to any except 
lawyers, or those who had themselves actually been in prison 
on a criminal charge — that, whether guilty or innocent, the 
prisoner was liable to pay a fee on his liberation. Hermione, 



1 82 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

trying to persuade Polixenes, King of Bohemia, to prolong 
his stay at the court of Leontes, in Sicily, says to him : 

' You put me off with limber vows ; but I, 
Though you would seek t'unsphere the stars with oaths, 
Should yet say, " Sir, no going." .... 
Force me to keep you as a prisoner, 
Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees 
When you depart, and save your thanks.' " 

But in this I do not agree with his lordship. Hermione, 
in her use of the word fees, doubtless alluded to the habitual 
largess distributed by parting guests, and especially by a king. 
It is absurd to suppose that she knew anything about jail 
fees. Lord Campbell continues : 

" I remember when the Clerk of Assize and the Clerk of 
the Peace were entitled to exact their fee from all acquitted 
prisoners, and were supposed in strictness to have a lien on 
their persons for it. I believe there is now no tribunal in 
England where the practice remains, excepting the two 
Houses of Parliament; but the Lord Chancellor and the 
Speaker of the House of Commons still say to prisoners about 
to be liberated from custody of the Black Rod or the Serjeant- 
at-Arms, ' You are discharged, paying your fees? 

" When the trial of Queen Hermione, for high treason, 
comes off, in Act III, Scene 2, although the indictment is 
not altogether according to English legal form, and might 
be held insufficient on a writ of error, we lawyers can not 
but wonder at seeing it so near perfection in charging the 
treason, and alleging the overt act committed by her, c con- 
trary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject.' 

" It is likewise remarkable that Cleomenes and Dion, the 
state messengers who brought back the response from the 
oracle of Delphi, to be given in evidence, are sworn to the 
genuineness of the document they produce almost in the very 
words now used by the Lord Chancellor, when an officer pre- 
sents at the bar of the House of Lords the copy of a record 
of a court of justice : 

" ' You here shall swear . . . 

That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have 

Been both at Delphos ; and from thence have brought 



"A Winter's Tale." 183 

The seal'd-up oracle, by the hand delivered 
Of great Apollo's priest ; and that since then 
You have not dared to break the holy seal, 
Nor read the secrets in 't.' " 

To me, these evidences of Shakespeare's legal attainments, 
though endorsed as such by Lord Campbell, appear to be 
very light and commonplace, and such only as any man of 
extensive reading could hardly help acquiring, without having 
even served as a scrivener or clerk in an attorney's office. 
The paying of jail fees by a discharged culprit and the usual 
verification of a paper are such obvious details as would have 
forced themselves upon the observation of any idler in a dull 
country town like Stratford, particularly if he were in the 
habit either of attending at the courts or visiting the taverns ; 
and it, therefore, was not necessary that Lord Chief Justice 
Campbell should have gone to the extent of reminding us of 
Shakespeare's imprisonment for deer-stealing, to account for 
his familiarity with the practice of prison fees. 

What shall we say, however, of the legal perception and 
acumen of a great lawyer like Lord Chief Justice Campbell, 
who will wring a theory of abstruse learning from these sur- 
face details, and overlook such an incident as Paulina's res- 
cuing the new-born princess out of prison, against every 
principle of law, on the flimsy pretext that the unborn infant, 
not having been condemned along with the queen, was not 
amenable to any process of restraint that could be lodged 
against it in the jailer's hands. Let us observe the circum- 
stances. 

The queen, Hermione, under the effects of Leontes's jeal- 
ousy, had been thrown into prison, precedent to trial, and, 
being in an advanced state of pregnancy, is delivered of a 
child. Paulina, a distinguished lady of the court, goes to see 
her, but is informed by the Keeper that he is under express 
orders that no person whatsoever shall be allowed to speak to 
her majesty, except in his presence. Paulina then asks to see 
Emilia, one of the Queen's waiting- women, who, being brought 
out, is thus addressed by her : 

Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady ? 
Emu. As well as one so great, and so forlorn, 



184 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

May hold together ; on her frights and griefs 
(Which never tender lady hath home greater), 
She is, something before her time, deliver'd. 

Pa ttl. A hoy ? 

Emtl. A daughter, and a goodly babe, 

Lnsty, and like to live ; the queen receives 
Much comfort in't : says, " My poor prisoner, 
I am innocent as you." 

Paulina then asks that the infant may be brought to her, 
but the Keeper interposes : 

Keep. Madam, if' t please the queen to send the babe, 

I know not what I shall incur, to pass it, 

Having no warrant. 
Paul. You need not fear it, sir ; 

The child was prisoner to the womb ; and is, 

By law and process of great nature, thence 

Free'd and enfranchised : not a party to 

The anger of the king ; nor guilty of, 

If any be, the trespass of the queen. 
Keep. I do believe it. 
Paul. Do not you fear : upon 

Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and danger. 

Here is a fine doctrine to prevail in an almost absolute 
monarchy! This most successful of all female lawyers, Pau- 
lina, claims that the new-born babe of the imprisoned queen 
has such an inherent right to personal liberty that it may de- 
mand, through its next friend, that it shall be passed out of 
prison, not for the purposes of nurture, but purely on its ab- 
stract personal right of liberty; and that babe, too, a prin- 
cess, and subject, consequently, not only to special laws of the 
realm governing the title to the crown, but also Jto the pe- 
culiar custody and authority of the king, who is, at the same 
time, its father. And yet Lord Campbell, who occupies his 
attention with forms of verification and jail fees, does not per- 
ceive this monstrous violation of the spirit, the science, and 
the philosophy of law, as well as of common sense. 



The Historical Plays, 1 8 5 



CHAPTEE XXI. 

THE HISTOEIOAL PLAYS. 

" A Winter's Tale " finishes the Comedies, which, as we 
have seen, are fourteen in number. The next group is de- 
nominated Histories, of which there are ten. These are suc- 
ceeded by thirteen Tragedies ; making a total for the Shake- 
spearean dramas of thirty-seven. 

In taking leave of the Comedies, I may remark that, while 
we find a vast amount of evidence in them that the writer 
was deeply imbued with the doctrines and sentiments of the 
Church of Eome, we find nothing favoring the theory of his 
Protestantism. Indeed, all of his religious utterances seem 
to be the spontaneous breathings of a Catholic soul, and our 
entire scrutiny of this series of the plays has produced but 
three indifferent expressions to raise even a momentary ques- 
tion to the contrary. 

Nor have we found, in going through these fourteen 
comedies, one generous aspiration in favor of popular liberty, 
always so hard for genius to repress, or one expression of sym- 
pathy with 'the sufferings of the poor ; nay, hardly one worthy 
sentiment accorded to a character in humble life. And here 
it may be again observed that aristocratic tendencies are 
more especially fostered by the Church of Rome than by any 
other. Finally, we -find no support, down to this point, for 
the theory that Sir Francis Bacon was the author of the 
Shakespearean plays. On the contrary, it seems impossible 
that a man of Lord Bacon's gravity and learning could have 
acquired the facility in tavern wit with which these plays 
abound ; could ever have laved his mind, as it were, in the 



1 86 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

sorry jests, the puerile equivoques, and the paltry puns (that 
wretched wit of sound) which form so large a portion of the 
conversation of Stephano and Trine ulo in the play of " The 
Tempest," which characterize the colloquy of Speed and 
Launce in the " Two Gentlemen of Verona," of Sir Hugh, 
of Doctor Caius, and of Falstaff and his vagabond retainers 
in " The Merry Wives of "Windsor," of Lucio and the Clown 
in "Measure for Measure," of the two Dromios in "The 
Comedy of Errors," of Dogberry and Verges, and of a deal 
of the smart repartee between Benedick and Beatrice in 
" Much Ado About Nothing," of much of what is said in 
"Love's Labour's Lost," of the jargon of Bottom and his 
mates in " Midsummer Night's Dream," of the clack of the 
two G-obbos in " The Merchant of Venice," also of the lewd 
sparring of Katharina and Petruchio in " The Taming of the 
Shrew " ; and, most notably and deplorably, the obscenity 
indulged in by Helena and the poltroon Parolles in. " All's 
Well that Ends Well." 

It is much more difficult to believe, therefore, that an 
austere philosopher like Bacon could have familiarized him- 
self with such pitiful stuff as this, than it is to credit William 
Shakespeare, the play-actor, for his smattering of law, his 
superficial knowedge of medicine, and his apparent proficiency 
in the rhetoric of courts. Of course, those who credit Shake- 
speare for the correctness of his court phraseology could hardly 
have been at court themselves. And yet of this class are the 
critics who pretend to judge familiarly of kings; and who, 
while thus giving away the argument, stultify themselves still 
further by the assumption that Shakespeare merely comes 
up to the level of mere court nothings, even when his superb 
language is at its best. Equally absurd seems to me to be 
the theory of that other class of critics, composed mostly of 
mere scholars, who will not tolerate the idea that any one can 
have learning who is not an utter book-worm like them- 
selves. These are the pundits who flatly deny all scholarship, 
and even all foreign languages, to Shakespeare, simply be- 
cause they can not find that he acquired these accomplish- 
ments through a regular course at school. These savants, 
while in one breath they claim Shakespeare to be a miracle 



The Historical Plays. 187 

of human genius, in the next deny to him the most ordinary 
gifts of observation and of memory ; which faculties, working 
in sympathy silently together, always result in that super- 
vening climax of intelligence which is "ignorantly" known 
as intuition. This class of critics can not account for the 
scraps of Latin, French, Spanish, and Italian which are scat- 
tered through the comedies, as if the quick and retentive men- 
tal faculties of the outranking poetic genius of the world 
are to be measured by the qualities of ordinary men. It is 
commentators of this class who, weakened by too much atten- 
tion to details, lose all vigorous range of observation, and 
consequently become incapable of comprehending such mira- 
cles of acquisition, so far as the acquirement of foreign lan- 
guages is concerned, as are shown by Elihu Barritt and 
"William Shakespeare. The five or six languages which 
Shakespeare seems to have partially picked up, during the 
eight years of comparative idleness he passed at Stratford, was, 
after all, a far inferior exploit to the acquisition of the forty 
or fifty languages and tongues by Elihu Burritt, of America. 
The signs and features of a foreign language, under the ac- 
quiring ecstasy of intellects like these, resemble the vivid 
function of the photographic plate, which in an instant seizes 
and fixes the images that are to endure for ever. 

Moreover, every one knows, who has ever mastered even 
the rudiments of a foreign language, that nothing is easier 
than to grasp offhand all the leading features of a story 
from a foreign page, so as to furnish, as did the Italian school 
of romance to our poet, all the hints, if not all the incidents, 
necessary for a play. If these incidents were not transcribed 
exact, so much the more creditable for our author's invention ; 
and if exact sentences from the original were at any time de- 
sirable, phrase-books might have been resorted to, as books of 
attorneys' practice were doubtless pressed into Shakespeare's 
service for his terms of law. The trouble with the commenta- 
tors has therefore too often been that they were either awed 
from a plain estimation of their idol by too rapt an adoration,, 
or, bewildered by their own scholarship, they have under- 
valued his practical attainments, and erroneously set him 
down as an unlettered man. And, after all, how do most of 



1 88 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

these old scholars and book-worms compare with the clever 
world of to-day ? Steam, electricity, the revelations by science 
of the heavens and the earth, have annihilated whole libraries 
of philosophic dreams, and placed more true knowledge in 
the hands of unpretending merchants and mere boys than 
dwelt behind the beard of Zoroaster or of Confucius, or ever 
belonged to the old alchemists, who were supposed to have 
learning and science in valet-like attendance, as familiar 
spirits. Nay, young men who now get the bulk of their 
knowledge from the newspapers can afford almost to smile at 
the truisms of Lord Bacon, and wonder how he obtained his 
vast renown by uttering the now common facts that formed 
the staple of his essays. But while Bacon has thus receded 
with the estimation of his period, no one has succeeded in ap- 
proaching, much less transcending, the conceptions of the 
mind of William Shakespeare ! The Philosopher labored 
through the perplexing, tedious paths of learning to approxi- 
mate toward the truth ; the Poet caught his conceptions di- 
rect from the creative Throne, and transmitted them through 
the lightning medium of the soul. Shakespeare is, therefore, 
always true and fresh and new. Nothing can " stale his in- 
finite variety " ; and, as the generations roll before him, each 
after each echoes the accord, 

"That lie was not of an age, but for all time." 

I trust I may not be considered as speaking slightingly of 
Bacon in thus contrasting his qualities with those of Shake- 
speare. Lord Bacon, for his period, was as much the pioneer 
of thought as Shakespeare was the pioneer of soul; and the 
misfortune of Bacon, in being subjected to the instructed 
judgment of the present world, is that he is now obliged to 
meet with an audience which has for more than two centuries 
been drinking, at third and fourth hands, of the wisdom of 
which he was the surprising and original fountain. " These 
two incomparable men," says Lord Macaulay, " the Prince of 
Poets and the Prince of Philosophers, made the Elizabethan 
age a more glorious and important era in the history of the 
human mind than the age of Pericles, of Augustus, or of 
Leo." 1 

1 Macaulay's "Essay on Burleigh and his Times," vol. v, p. 611. 



The Historical Plays. 189 

That Shakespeare arid Bacon were thus distinct in their 
separate monarchies of mind is in no way more evident than 
by the fact that, though the plays ceased to appear in 1613, 
three years before Shakespeare's death, the "Essays" con- 
tinued until 1625, which was the year before Bacon's death. 
Indeed, in that latter year, which was the sixty-fifth of Ba- 
con's age, he issued an edition of twenty of them, embracing 
the subjects of Truth, Revenge, Adversity, of Simulation and 
Dissimulation, of Envy, of Boldness, of Seditions and Troubles, 
of Travel, of Delays, of Innovations, of Suspicion, of Planta- 
tions, of Prophecies, of Masques and Triumphs, of Fortune, of 
Usury, of Building, of Gardens, of Anger, and of the Vicissi- 
tudes of Things. These were his pet productions, and, that 
there may be no mistake as to his own estimation of the supe- 
riority of these over any other of his labors, he declares, in the 
dedication to this edition of 1625, as follows : " I do now pub- 
lish my 'Essays,' which, of all my other works, have been 
most current. For that, as it seems, they come home to men's 
business and bosoms, I have enlarged them both in number 
and weight; so that they are indeed a new work." 

And be it observed, this declaration was made by Bacon 
two years after the collated plays of Shakespeare had been 
published under the poet's name in the folio of 1623. How 
is it possible, then, for us to believe that a man so covetous 
of literary fame as Bacon, who laboriously prepared his " Es- 
says" for the press in the sixty-fifth year of his age, and who 
revised the " Advancement " twelve separate times, never lent 
a hand to the arrangement of the Shakespearean folio of 1623, 
if he had really been the author of its plays? Or, stranger 
still, that, as the author of these plays, he had not discrimina- 
tion enough to know that they were, beyond all comparison, 
his greatest works, and had already caught the mind of the 
world to an extent which promised a fame greater than could 
be expected for anything he had ever done ? Surely, no man, 
possessed of the comprehensive intellect and towering genius 
indicated in the " Essays " and the Plays combined, could have 
made the mistake of leaving his reputation with posterity 
solely to the custody of his subordinate productions. 

In passing/rom the Comedies I will take this opportunity 



190 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

to quote the opinion of Dr. Johnson as to our poet's merit in 
this branch of dramatic composition. " In tragedy," says the 
Doctor, " he is always struggling after some occasion to be 
comic, but in comedy he seems to repose, or to luxuriate, as in 
a mode of thinking congenial to his nature. In his tragic 
scenes there is always something wanting, but his comedy 
often surpasses expectation or desire. His comedy pleases by 
the thoughts and the language, and his tragedy, for the greater 
part, by incident and action. His tragedy seems to be skill, 
his comedy to be instinct." ISTow, while I do not agree with 
the learned Doctor in all of the above opinion, he must have 
every careful reader's concurrence largely in the following : 

ci Shakespeare, with his excellences, has likewise faults, 
and faults sufficient to obscure and overwhelm any other merit. 
I shall show them in the proportion in which they appear to 
me, without envious malignity or superstitious veneration. . . . 
His first defect is that to which may be imputed most of the 
evil in books or in men. He sacrifices virtue to convenience, 
and is so much more careful to please than to instruct, that he 
seems to write without any moral purpose. From his writ- 
ings, indeed, a system of social duty may be selected, for he 
that thinks reasonably must think morally ; but his precepts 
and axioms drop casually from him; he makes no just distri- 
bution of good or evil, nor is always careful to show in the vir- 
tuous a disapprobation of the wicked ; he carries his persons 
indifferently through right or wrong, and at the close dismisses 
them without further care, and leaves their examples to operate 
by chance. This fault the barbarity of his age can not extenu- 
ate ; for it is always a writer's duty to make the world better, 
and justice is a virtue independent of time or place. ... In his 
comic scenes he is seldom very successful, when he engages 
his characters in reciprocation of smartness and contests of sar- 
casm ; their jests are commonly gross, and their pleasantry li- 
centious ; neither his gentlemen nor his ladies have much deli- 
cacy, nor are they sufficiently distinguished from his clowns by 
any appearance of refined manners. Whether he represented 
the real conversation of his time, is not easy to determine ; the 
reign of Elizabeth is commonly supposed to have been a time 
of stateliness, formality, and reserve ; yet perhaps the relaxa- 



"King John? 191 

tions of that severity were not very elegant. There must, how- 
ever, have been always some modes of gayety preferable to 
others, and a writer ought to choose the best. ... A quibble 
is to Shakespeare what luminous vapors are to the traveler ; 
he follows it at all adventures ; it is sure to lead him out of 
his way, and sure to ingulf him in the mire. It has some 
malignant power over his mind, and its fascinations are irre- 
sistible. "Whatever be the dignity or profundity of his disqui- 
sitions, whether he be enlarging knowledge, or exalting affec- 
tion, whether he be amusing attention with incidents or en- 
chanting it in suspense, let but a quibble spring up before 
him, and he leaves his work unfinished. A quibble is the 
golden apple for which he will always turn aside from his 
career or stoop from his elevation. A quibble, poor and bar- 
ren as it is, gave him such delight that he was content to pur- 
chase it by the sacrifice of reason, propriety, and truth. A 
quibble was to him the fatal Cleopatra for which he lost the 
world, and was content to lose it." 

To these remarks I will only add that, to me, Shakespeare 
in comedy has frequently seemed to be only Shakespeare in 
his cups. In tragedy, he is a Titan bearing his sublime front 
above the clouds ; in comedy, too often an unbuttoned Satyr, 
groveling amid the slops and fragments of the table. A god, 
perhaps, at times, but too frequently a god reeling with animal 
relaxation, apparently to rest his brain. 



THE HISTOEIOAL PLATS. 

"KING JOHN." 

This first of the historical plays of Shakespeare was found- 
ed on an anonymous play, called " The Troublesome Reign of 
King John, with a Discovery of King Richard Cceur de Lion's 
base son, vulgarly named the Bastard Faulconbridge ; also, 
the Death of King John at Swinstead Abbey." Shakespeare 
followed this old tragedy pretty closely, though he was care- 
ful to exclude a scene of the original which irreverently al- 



192 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

ludes to " the merry nuns and brothers " when Faulconbridge 
is practicing his extortions on the clergy. The exclusion of 
this scene is attributed by Gervinus, from whom I quote the 
above expression, to a very different motive from the one 
which I fancy is most obvious. The German commentator, 
who is evidently a good Protestant, says : " But Shakespeare 
did not go so far as to make a farce of Faulconbridge's extor- 
tions from the clergy : the old piece here offered him a scene 
in which merry nuns and brothers burst forth from the opened 
coffers of the i hoarding abbots J a scene certainly very amus- 
ing to the fresh Protestant feelings of the time ; but to our 
poet's impartial mind the dignity of the clergy, nay, even the 
con tempi ativen ess of cloister life, was a matter too sacred for 
him to introduce it in a ridiculous form into the seriousness 
of history." 2 

From the light heretofore thrown upon the religious faith 
of our poet, I read the motive for the exclusion of this Catho- 
lic scandal differently from the learned German professor. 
Shakespeare's motive here seems to be located in the sensi- 
tiveness of a Catholic for the decorums of his sect — a religious 
sensitiveness which, be it observed, did not operate to protect 
the " dignity " of the Protestant clergy, when derision was to 
be cast upon Sir Hugh, "the jack priest" of the "Merry 
"Wives"; upon Sir Nathaniel, the curate, in " Love's Labour's 
Lost " ; upon Sir Oliver Mar-text, the Puritan preacher, in 
" As You Like It " ; or upon the illusory Sir Topas, in 
" Twelfth Night." 

Hunter, like Gervinus, also exhibits the common concern 
of the English commentators to protect Shakespeare from the 
suspicion of Roman Catholic convictions. Nevertheless, the 
evidences of Catholicism in this play insensibly operate upon 
even Hunter's mind, and develop their force as follows : 

" There is so much in this play which shows that the mind 
of the poet was intent when he wrote it on affairs connected 
with the Church, that it may be submitted as a probability,, 
not at once to be rejected, that in thus placing Hubert, in 
imagination, in a scene of horror, to prepare him for conceiv- 

3 "Essay on Burleigh and his Times," vol. v, p. 611. 



"King John? 193 

ing and executing a deed of horror, the poet had in his mind 
what was alleged to be a practice of the Jesuits of the time. 
They had their 4 chamber of meditation,' as they called it, in 
which they placed men who were Ho undertake some great 
business of moment, as to kill a king or the like.' ' It was a 
melancholy dark chamber' (says Burton, in his 'Anatomy of 
Melancholy,') ' where he had no light for many days together, 
no company, little meat, ghastly pictures of devils all about 
him, and by this strange usage they made him quite mad, 
and beside himself.' The word convertite" continues Hunter, 
" which occurs in this play, is an ecclesiastical term, with a 
peculiar and express meaning, distinct from convert. It de- 
notes a person who, having relapsed, has been recovered, and 
this, it will be perceived, is the sense in which Shakespeare 
uses it." 

It is at this point of our scrutiny of the play of " King 
John " that the argument of Knight, on the line " Purchase 
corrupted pardon of a man," forces itself upon our attention ; 
but, inasmuch as that has been pretty thoroughly discussed 
in the first division of this work, we will refer the reader 
back to pages 66 to 71 inclusive, as a proper continuation 
of this chapter. These extracts close our illustrations from 
"King John" on the subject of religion. We come now to 
those which exhibit Shakespeare's proclivity to deify and 
worship kings, and demonstrate his utter want of sympathy 
with any movement tending to popular liberty. The first 
and most striking proof this play gives of this latter tendency 
is, that in the same spirit which directs him to protect the 
Roman Catholic faith from derision (by leaving out from the 
old play which was his model the scene that scandalized the 
nuns and monks), he refrains from making the slightest allu- 
sion, in Ms version of " King John," to the signing of Mag- 
na Charta, an event, unquestionably, the most momentous as 
well as the most dramatic of his entire reign. In the same 
spirit and policy, says Gervinus, "he has softened for the 
better the traits of the principal political characters, and has 
much obliterated the bad. His John, his Constance, his Ar- 
thur, his Philip Augustus, even his Elinor, are better people 
than they are found in history. . . . The base previous his- 
13 



194 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

tory of Elinor and Constance is touched upon only in cursory 
insinuations, or is entirely overlooked. . . . King John him- 
self is kept greatly in the background, and even his historical 
character is softened and refined by Shakespeare." 8 

The following may be classed among our poet's spontane- 
ous laudations of the great : 

Act II, Scene 2. 
K. Philip. Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, 

We'll put thee down 'gainst whom these arms we bear, 
Or add a royal number to the dead, 
Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss, 
"With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. 
Bastaed. Ha ! majesty, how high thy glory towers, 

When the rich Mood of Icings is set on fire / 

Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? 

By heaven, these scroyles [scabs, or citizens] of Anglers 
Flout you, kings! 

An if thou hast the mettle of a Icing. 

Act III, Scene 1. 
Constance. Thy word 

Is but the vain breath of a common man: 

Believe me, I do not believe thee, man: 

I have a hinges oath to the contrary. 
Pand. (speaJcing to Kings Philip and John). 

Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven ! 

K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories 

Can task the free breath of a sacred Tcingt 

K. Philip. Where revenge did paint 

The fearful difference of incensed Icings. 

Act IV, Scene 3. 

Before the Castle. Present — Pembboke, Salisbuby, Bigot, and 

Fatjlconbeidge. 

Enter Hubeet. 

[Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. 

Arthur doth live ; the king hath sent for you. 

3 Gervinus, pp. 356, 357. 



"King John? 195 

Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death : 

Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! 

Hub. I am no villain. 

Sal. Must I rob the law? [Drawing hia sword. 

Bast. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. 

Sal. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. 

Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say ; 

By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours: 
I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, 
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; 
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget 
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. 

Big. Out, dunghill ! darsH thou brave a nobleman? 

Hub. Not for my life ; but yet I dare defend 
My innocent life against an emperor. 

Here end our illustrations from this play except those bear- 
ing upon the legal acquirements cf Shakespeare; and these 
again bring us to Lord Chief Justice Campbell. 

KING JOHNc" 

Lord Campbell, in his review of the play of " King John" 
from the above point of view, expresses himself somewhat dis- 
appointed that he has not found more of what he calls legal- 
isms in Shakespeare's dramas founded upon English history. 
He accounts for this paucity of legal reference, however, by 
the fact that " our great dramatist " has, in these histories, 
" worked upon the foundations already laid by other men, 
who had no technical knowledge. . . . Yet," he continues, 
"we find in several of the 'Histories' Shakespeare's fondness 
for law terms ; and it is still remarkable that, whenever he 
indulges this propensity, he uniformly lays down good law." 
His lordship gives as a strong illustration of this fact the de- 
cision by King John, between Robert and Philip Faulcon- 
bridge, upon the question of bastardy pleaded by the younger 
brother against Philip, who, however, like Shakespeare's 
eldest daughter Susanna, had made his appearance after the 
nuptials of parents, 

" Full fourteen weeks before the course of time." 

The King legally decides that Philip is legitimate, and is 
therefore his father's lawful heir, because 



196 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" His father's wife did after wedlock bear him." 

So far, however, from receiving this as a substantial evidence 
of Shakespeare's law learning, it seems to me to evince no 
more legal knowledge than ought to be expected from any 
well-educated youth of twenty-one. The next legal illustra- 
tion which Lord Campbell gives is found within the lines 
spoken by the Duke of Austria, upon giving his pledge to 
support the title of Prince Arthur against King John : 

" Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, 
As seal to this indenture of my love." 

Lord Campbell regards this as a purely legal metaphor, which, 
might come naturally from an attorney's clerk, who had often 
been an attesting witness to the execution of deeds. I quite 
agree with his lordship in this view, but the expression might 
just as naturally have come from any intelligent merchant or 
writer of the time. 

His lordship winds up his analysis of " King John " with a 
reference to some of the King's language, which I have already 
given, as evidence of the true ancient doctrine of the suprem- 
acy of the crown over the pope. Upon this point his lord- 
ship is undoubtedly correct. 



"Richard I I? 197 



CHAPTER XXII. 



This play was written in 1593-'4r, and first published in 
1597. Malone says it was published in quarto no less than 
five several times during Shakespeare's life. " The first edi- 
tion appeared in 1597, without the scene of the deposing of 
King Richard, which was inserted in the edition of 1608," 
during the reign of King James — the deposition of Richard 
having been suppressed in an earlier play of "Richard II," 
in concession to the suspicion of Elizabeth that such a scene 
would familiarize the public with outrages on the royal power, 
and thus affect her own safety on the throne. Another ver- 
sion has it that the scene of the deposition was the result of 
an intrigue of Essex, the favorite of Elizabeth, about the time 
of his Jesuit plot and disloyal Irish expedition (1598), for 
which he lost his head. 

Gervinus says upon this subject : " When the Earl of Es- 
sex, in 1601, wished to excite the London citizens to an insur- 
rection, in order that he might remove his enemies from the 
person of the queen, he ordered his confidential friend, Sir 
Gilly Merrick, and others, to act the tragedy of ' Richard II ' 
in public streets and houses previous to the outbreak of the 
conspiracy, in order to inflame the minds of the people. Eliz- 
abeth, hearing of this performance, alluded to it in conversa- 
tion, calling herself Richard II. There is no doubt that the 
play employed by these conspirators was the older i Richard 
II.' For Shakespeare's drama, though certainly a revolution- 
ary picture, is of so mild a character, and demands such hearty 
sympathy for the dethroned king, and most especially in the 



198 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

very scene of the deposition, that it would appear unsuitable 
for such an object ; besides, in the editions before 1601, the 
whole scene of the deposition of Richard in the fourth act, 
although it must have been written bj the poet at the outset, 
was not even printed, and certainly, therefore, was not acted 
in Elizabeth's reign." 

For the story, or rather for the facts, of this drama, Shake- 
speare has closely followed the historical chronicle of Holin- 
shed, except, says Rowe, that u he has sought to remedy the 
defect which consists in the short period embraced in the 
action of the drama (the two years between 1393 and 1400),, 
by representing Isabel, Richard's queen — who was only 
twelve years of age when he was deposed — with the speech 
and actions of maturity." " Shakespeare's genius," continues 
this writer, " has been lavishly poured out upon the character 
of Richard, but, though he could not entirely pass over his. 
bad qualities, they are lightly touched." 

It is the historical dramas, and particularly those of 
" Richard II," and of the First and Second Parts of " Henry 
IY," and of " Henry V," which Shakespeare makes the espe- 
cial instruments for his inculcation of subservience to the 
nobility and king. Though the houses of York and Lancas 
ter are the contending parties during the entire period cov- 
ered by these four and the three succeeding plays, he man- 
ages to divide his compliments between the nobles of those 
respective houses, with most obsequious equality, and so keeps 
on, till the bloody stream of the Roses unites in the person of 
Henry YII. But, while doing this, our poet never evinces 
the slightest interest in the sufferings of the masses, whose 
lives are but the fuel of the strife. 

And, surely, the people endured wrongs enough during 
the whole of this turbulent period to enlist some slight sym- 
pathy from the mighty genius before whose piercing and po- 
etic eye the bloody panorama passed in its fresher force. In 
addition to being torn from their unreaped fields, and cast 
into the volcano of the civil strife year by year, their moral 
condition was being constantly aggravated by new oppres- 
sions and gross shames. Shakespeare is forced to admit this 
portion of the indictment against King Richard II in his 



"Richard I I? 199 

text ; and while lie recites, in vivid words, these terrible ex- 
actions, our straining thoughts are constantly disappointed of 
a single note of pity or of protest. His thoughts, his admira- 
tion, and his impulses are always with the nobles; his wor- 
ship ever with the King. The following sketch, by Gervinus, 
of Richard's wild and profligate expenditure, and of his heart- 
less and unprincipled grinding not only of the masses but of 
every man he dared to plunder, presents a forcible picture of 
the criminal character of his government, and likewise of the 
deplorably sunken condition of the people: 

" Impoverished by his companions, Richard sees his coffers 
empty ; he has recourse to forced loans, to extortion of taxes, 
and to fines : and at last he leases the English kingdom as a 
tenure to his parasites — no longer a king, only a landlord of 
England. A traitor to this unsubdued land, he has, by his 
contracts, resigned the conquests of his father. At length he 
lays hands on private property, and seizes the possessions of 
the late old Lancaster and of his banished son, thus depriving 
himself of the hearts of the people and the nobles. The ruin 
of the impoverished land, the subversion of right, the danger 
of property, a revolt in Ireland, the arming of the nobles in 
self-defense — all these indications allow us to observe, in the 
first two acts, the growing seed of revolution which the misled 
king had scattered. The prognostication of the fall of Hi ch- 
ard II is read by the voice of the people in the common signs 
of all revolutionary periods (Act II, Scene 4) : 

1 Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, 
The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
The other, to enjoy hy rage and war.' 

"Nevertheless," continues the learned German Professor, 
" the peculiar right of the king is not esteemed by Shake- 
speare more sacred than any other. ... As soon as Richard 
had touched the inheritance of Lancaster, he had placed in 
his hands, as it were, the right of retaliation. The indolent 
York thus speaks to him immediately : 

4 Take from time his rights ; 
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ; 
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king, 
But by fair sequence and succession ? ' 



200 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" He tells liim that lie c plucks a thousand dangers on his 
head,' that he loses Q a thousand well-disposed hearts,' and that 
he c pricks his tender patience to those thoughts which honor 
and allegiance can not think.'" 

That is to say, a the peculiar right of the king, which 
•usually stands over all, is not esteemed more sacred than any 
other," when it invades the rights of any branch of the royal 
family or clashes with those of any of the nobility. But, in 
contrast with the sensitiveness of onr poet in regard to the 
equities of property, we look to him in vain for one word of 
protest against the inhumanities and oppressions practiced 
upon poverty. 

In scanning these spontaneous expressions in our poet's 
text we get a look, as it were, into his unguarded soul, and 
we are constantly impressed with the conviction that he wrote 
as if unconscious he was writing "for all time," and as if 
laboring only for the hour. His main motive seemed to be to 
dramatize for the swarm who brought him their sixpences and 
shillings, who had a vulgar yearning to look upon a lord, and 
to lave in the sacred atmosphere of even illusory noblemen 
and kings. He worked for money, for a solid home in Strat- 
ford, and for a Shakespearean coat of arms. He was a thor- 
oughly pleasant, good-natured man, but apparently without 
any active generosity, and, I regret to conclude, not burdened 
heavily with moral principle ; in short, an easy-going, kind- 
hearted, beaming epicure, who had a god in his bosom with- 
out knowing it. "When he bent over his desk and his thoughts 
began flowing through his pen, the god thus summoned flamed 
at the touch and descended to the earth. The bones of the 
man William Shakespeare lie as dust within the tomb at 
Stratford, but the god which inhabited him in life remains 
with us to-day. 

But let us proceed to the illustrations of Shakespeare's 
Catholic and aristocratic tendencies as they are afforded by 
this play. 

The first note is a religious evidence uttered by the Duke 
of Norfolk, which occurs in the first scene of the first act, 
when he confesses to having meditated the murder of the 
Duke of Lancaster : 



"Richard IF 201 

Noefolk. For you, iny noble lord of Lancaster, 
The honourable father to my foe, 
Once did I lay in ambush for your life, 
A trespass that dcth vex my grieved soul ; 
But, ere I last received the sacrament, 
I did confess it ; and exactly begg'd 
Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it. 

!N"ext comes an illustration of the worship of an " anoint- 
ed " king, which occurs in the next scene, between John of 
Gaunt and the Duchess of Gloster : 

Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel : for heaven's substitute, 
His deputy anointed in his sight, 
Hath caused his death ; the which, if wrongfully, 
Let heaven avenge ; for I may never lift 
An angry arm against his minister. 

In this same colloquy the Duchess remarks : 

" That which in mean men we entitle patience, 
Is pale, cold cowardice in noble breasts." 

In Scene 4 we have our first glimpse, in this play, of 
Shakespeare's contempt for the common people, in the fol- 
lowing description by King Richard of the obsequious court 
which his dangerous rival, Bolingbroke, was paying to the 
populace : 

K. Kioh. Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, 

Observ'd his courtship to the common people: — 
How he did seem to dive into their hearts, 
With humble and familiar courtesy: 
"What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; 
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles, 
And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
As 'twere to banisli their affects with him. 
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; 
A brace of draymen bid — God speed him well, 
And had the tribute of his supple Tcnee, 
With — " Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends" ; 
As were our England in reversion his, 
And he our subjects' next degree in hope. 

In the first scene of the second act, Gaunt, in a patriotic 
eulogium upon his country, delivers the following : 



202 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

" This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, 
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, 
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal Icings, 
Feared by their breed, and famous by their birth." 

Then, while rebuking the wasteful King from his dying 
bed, he goes on : 

"And thou, too careless patient as thou art, 
CommiVst thy Pointed body to the cure 
Of those physicians that first wounded thee.'* 

In Act II, Scene 2, Northumberland appeals to his brother 
rebels to 

"Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd crown, 
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's gilt, 
And make high majesty loolc, like itself." 

Of course, I do not insist that these natural expressions 
about "high majesty " and the like, when correctly assigned 
to the characters, go for much; but the fact that such rever- 
ence and worship are invariable with our author, and that his 
expressions of contempt for Man, as mere man, are also equal- 
ly invariable, indicate together that such expressions are the 
spontaneous and prevailing sentiments of the writer himself; 
and, in that point of view, they go for a great deal. 

In Scene 3 of the same act, York rebukes the banished 
Bolingbroke for invading the kingdom before his sentence is 
repealed, with 

" Oom'st thou because the anointed king is hence? " 

That portion of the ceremony of a coronation which con- 
sists in "anointing" a newly crowned monarch with the holy 
oil had obviously made a deeply religious impression upon 
Shakespeare's mind, to judge from his frequent reference to it. 

In Act III, Scene 2, Richard, just returned from his Irish 
expedition, learns, as soon as he has landed on the coast of 
Wales, that the banished Bolingbroke has returned in arms. 
His weak nature at once sinks under the alarming prospect, 
and, like all cowards, he seeks comfort in superstitious hopes : 



"Richard II" 205 

Not all the water in the rough rude sea 

Can wash the balm from an anointed king": 

The breath of worldly men cannot depose 

The deputy elected by the Lord : 

For every man that Bolingbroke hath press'd, 

To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, 

God for his Richard hatli in heavenly pay 

A glorious angel : then, if angels fight, 

"Weak men must fall ; for heaven still guards the right. 

Atjmeele. Comfort, my liege ; remember who you are. 
K. Eioh. I had forgot myself : Am I not king ? 

Awake, thou sluggard majesty ! thou sleep'st. 

Is not the king's name forty thousand names? 

Arm, arm, my name ! a puny subject strikes 

At thy great glory. — Look not to the ground. 

Ye favourites of a king ; are we not high? 

High be our thoughts. 

Act III, Scene 3. 

Plain before Flint Castle, where King Richaed has taken refuge* 
Enter Bolingbeoke and Forces, Yoek, Noethumbeeland, and others. 
Richaed appears upon the battlements. 
Boling. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear, J 

Yoek:. Yet looks he like a king ; behold, his eye, 

As bright as is the eagWs, lightens forth 

Controlling majesty. 
K. Rich. We are amazed; and thus long have we stood 

[To NOETHUMBEBLAND. 

To watch the faithful bending of thy knee, 

Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: 

And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 

To pay their awful duty to our presence? 

If we be not, show us the hand of God 

That hath dismissed us from our stewardship ; 

For well we know, no hand of blood and bone 

Can gripe the sacred handle of our sceptre, 

Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. 

And though you think, that all, as you have done, 

Have torn their souls, by turning them from us, 

And we are barren, and bereft of friends ; — 

Yet know, — my master, God omnipotent, 

Is mustering in his clouds, on our behalf, 

Armies of pestilence ; and they shall strike 



204 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Your children yet unborn, and unbegot ; 
That lift your vassal hands against my head, 
And threat the glory of my precious crown. 
Tell Bolingbroke (for yond', methinks, he is,) 
That every stride he makes upon my land 
Is dangerous treason. 

Scene IV. — A Garden. 

The Queen, who has overheard the Gardener describe the fall of Rioh- 
asd, comes from her concealment and exclaims: 

"Why dost thou say king Richard is deposed? 
Dars't thou, thou little tetter thing than earth, 
Divine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how, 
Oam'st thou by these ill tidings? Speak, thou wretch! 

Act IV, Scene 1. — Westminster Hall. 

Bolino. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. 
Bp. of Cab. Marry, God forbid!— .... 

And shall the figure of God's majesty, 

Sis captain, steward, deputy elect, 

Anointed, crowned, planted many years, 

Be judged by subject and inferior breath f 

I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king. 

K. Rich. Gentle Northumberland, 

If thy offences were upon record, 
Would it not shame thee, in so fair a troop, 
To read a lecture of them? If thou would'st, 
There shouldsH thou find one heinous article, — 
Containing the deposing of a Mng. 

For I have given here my soul's consent, 
To undech the pompous body of a king ; 
MaJce glory base, and sovereignty a slave ; 
Proud majesty a subject ; jstate a peasant. 

In Scene 2 of the above act, the pageant of Kichard being 
led in triumph at the heels of Bolingbroke is thus described 
by the old York to his Duchess : 

Dtjoh. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the while? 
Yoek. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, 

After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, 



"Richard IIP 205 

Are idly bent on him that enters next, 

Thinking his prattle to be tedious : 

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 

Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him ! 

No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: 

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 

"Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — 

His face still combating with tears and smiles, 

The badges of his grief and patience, — 

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 

The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, 

And barbarism itself have pitied him: 

But heaven hath a hand in these events. 

In the next scene, which is at Windsor Castle, where Bol- 
ingbroke at last figures as king, the young Duke of Aumerle 
rushes into the royal presence, in order to forestall his father, 
York, in revealing a treason against his majesty. Aumerle 
in advance of his father's arrival confesses his intended crime, 
declares he has repented of it, and casts himself at the new 
king's feet, imploring pardon. 

At this moment, and just as he has received a qualified 
forgiveness, York comes thundering at the door, and finding 
it locked — a precaution which Aumerle had taken in order to 
prevent interruption while he made his confession to the king 
— exclaims : 

York (outside). My liege, beware; look to thyself; 

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there. 
Boling. Villain, I'll make thee safe. [Drawing. 

Axjm. Stay thy revengful hand, 

Thou hast no cause to fear. 
York. Open the door, secure, foolhardy king; 

Shall I, for love, speak treason to thy face ? 

Open the door, or I will break it open. 

[BolingoroTce opens the door. 
Enter York. 
Bolikg. What is the matter, uucle ? Speak ; 

Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger, 

That we may arm us to encounter it. 
York. Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know 

The treason that my haste forbids me show. 
Axjm. Remember, as thou read'st, thy promise past. 



ao6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

I do repent me ; read not my name there, 
My heart is not confederate with my hand. 
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set it down. — 
I tore it from the traitor's bosom, king; 
Fear, and not love, begets his penitence; 
Forget to pity him, lest thy pity prove 
A serpent that will sting thee to the heart. 

The Duchess, Anmerle's mother, next arrives, and, throw- 
ing herself at the King's feet, unites in beseeching her son's 
pardon. Old York, however, remains obdurate, and, in reply 
to Aumerle's ejaculation, 



replies, 



"Unto my mother's prayers, I bend my knee," 



"Against them both my true joints bended be." 



The King, nevertheless, forgives Aurnerle; whereupon the 
Duchess, overcome with gratitude for the royal clemency, 
bursts out with 

" A god on earth thou art! " 

This scene distinctly teaches that devotion to a king is a su- 
perior obligation to the ties of nature. 

Finally, Richard is murdered by Sir Pierce Exton, by the 
secret orders of Bolingbroke; who, however, having gained 
his object in getting Richard out of the way, thus deals with 
Lis murderer : 

Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought 
A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, 
Upon my head, and all this famous land. 

Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this deed. 

Boling. They love not poison that do poison need, 

Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead, 

I hate the murderer, . . . 

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, 

But neither my good word nor princely favour: 

With Cain go wander through the shade of night, 

And never show thy head by day nor light. 

Lords, I protest my sonl is full of woe, 

That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow. 

Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, 



"Richard II" 207 

And put on sullen black, incontinent; 

Pll make a voyage to the Holy Land^ 

To wash this Mood off from my guilty hand: 

March sadly after ; grace my mournings here, 

In weeping after this untimely bier. 

A fine, frank, honest Christian king is this ! 

The honest argument of the play of "King Richard II" 
is, on the one side, that an "anointed" king may devote his 
life to profligacy, may farm out his revenues to meet his pleas- 
ures, seize the lands and incomes of his nobles and bring the 
State to bankruptcy and ruin, without forfeiting the allegiance 
of the nobles, the respect of the people, or his right to the 
throne. On the other side, it is held by Bolingbroke and the 
nobles who take part with him that rebellion against the 
kingly authority is justified in the aristocracy, by any attempt 
on the part of the crown to appropriate or sequester their es- 
tates. The whole invasion of Bolingbroke is embarked upon 
this latter text, and the most notable defect of the presen- 
tation is, that the people, all of whom are constantly plun- 
dered and outraged, never have their wrongs alluded to as a 
recognizable element in the argument. Nay, these "slaves" 
these "craftsmen" these "subjects" these " common people" 
these " mean men" these " little better things than earth" are 
only used by Shakespeare to fill up the spaces and help the 
main scene work. The broadest illustration of this utter con- 
tempt for the rights and sufferings of the people may be found, 
perhaps, in the words of Bolingbroke, when he appears at the 
head of the revolted nobles and insurgent forces before the 
King's castle in the third act. On that occasion he directs 
Northumberland to " go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle " 
and say, that he, Bolingbroke, has come to England in this 
warlike form, simply to recover his rights as Duke of Lan- 
caster, and then bids him to give the assurance to Richard 
that he 

" On both his knees doth kiss king Richard's hand. 

Even at his feet to lay my arras and power, 
Provided that my banishment repeal'd, 
And lands restored, be freely granted." 



2o8 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Then follows a threat, on the supposition that these con- 
ditions will be refused, which shows where the people stand 
and how they are considered, in the mind of an author who 
makes no declaration in their favor : 

"If not, I'll use the advantage of my power, 
And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, 
Bain 'd from the wounds of slaughtered Englishmen." 

Surely the people, in this connection, were worth one 
thought of consideration ; and should not have been paraded 
as if merely so many horses or oxen incidental to the strife. 

A great effort has been made, in connection with this play, 
by Judge Nathaniel Holmes, the scholarly and ingenious 
leader of the American Baconians, to prove that Bacon had 
vaguely acknowledged himself to be the author of " Richard 
II," because he had admitted himself to be under the suspi- 
cion of the Queen at the time when the play was being acted 
under the express patronage of Essex (1598) with the deposi- 
tion scene in. The history of the times, however, clearly 
shows, through the records of the courts in 1600, that the 
matter which aroused the suspicion of the Queen, on the sub- 
ject of the presentation to the public mind of the deposition 
of King Richard, was a pamphlet published by one Dr. Hay- 
ward, in 1599, in which the story of that political event was 
insidiously stated. Bacon was really thought to have secretly 
favored the production of Hay ward's pamphlet, and so strongly 
did this suspicion prevail, that even Elizabeth once angrily 
alluded to " something which had grown from him, though it 
went about in others* names." This enigmatic expression is 
seized upon by Judge Holmes as an intimation by the Queen 
that he, Bacon, had really written the offensive play, though 
it had been published under Shakespeare's name. 

It seems to be absurd that the suspicion of the Queen could 
have referred to the play, which, as a treatise on the deposi- 
tion of a king, did not offend her successor James I, and, 
therefore, is not likely to have been the offensive matter which 
" grew from Bacon, but went about in others' names." 

The parallelisms of language between some of the expres- 
sions in "Richard II" and in Bacon's "Essays," as presented 



"Richard If" 209 

by Judge Holmes, do not claim that amount of space from us 
which would be requisite for their presentation. They have 
failed to impress me in the least, but, that no injustice may be 
done by this disposal of them, I commend the Judge's in- 
genious volume on " The Authorship of Shakespeare " to the 
reader. It was published by Hurd & Houghton, New York, 
1866. 

14 



2io Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEK XXIII. 



There is but little in this play or in the Second Part or 
division of the same history bearing upon the special points 
we are engaged upon. There is enough, however, as well in 
politics, sentiment, morals, and religion, to make them both 
important, as supports to our previous analyses, in each of 
those respects. 

The conspicuous figures of " Henry IV," in both of its parts, 
are Falstaff, Hotspur, and Prince Hal ; the former outranking 
both as a dramatic identity, and tempting my notice to so great 
an extent that I can not refrain from regretting that the line 
of our examination does not take Falstaff in. I will only 
pause a moment at this point to say, that history had given 
so bad a private reputation to " Prince Hal " that our poet, 
in order to elevate him to the plane requisite for the heroic 
action of his subsequent character as Henry V, ingeniously 
introduced the portraitures of Falstaff and his low compan- 
ions in the way of foil, and also to show how instinctively a 
royal nature would rise above casual degradation as soon as 
touched by noble and ambitious impulse. Having once created 
Falstaff, however, the boundless wit of Shakespeare, which, 
after all, was larger than his worship, made the fat knight a 
greater stage character than either Harry Percy or the Prince 
of Wales. 

The main theme of the First Part of "Henry IV" is 
merely a continuation of the political history which is begun 
in " Richard II." The strife is kept up between the nobles 
and the crown, and the subject of contention is that of their 



"Henry 1 r V"~- Part I. 211 

respective dignities and powers. The people, however, are 
never brought forward, except in the form of soldiers, and 
then only as pawns or " creatures " to fill the game. 

The following are the extracts which strike me in the 

text : 

Act IY, Scene 3. 

Blunt. So long as out of limit and true rule 
You stand against anointed majesty. 

Act Y, Scene 2. 
Hotspue. Arm, arm, with speed! and fellows, soldiers, friends, 
Better consider what you have to do. 

This is the first instance in which I find the common peo- 
ple addressed even in the name of soldiers, without some fling 
of undervaluation. 

Again, Hotspur : 

" And if we live, we live to tread on kings ; 
If die, brave death, when princes die with us." 

Scene 4. 
{In the midst of battle.) 
Peinoe John {Prince Henry" 1 s or other). 

We breathe too long — come, cousin Westmoreland, 
Our duty this way lies; for God's sake, come. 

[Exit, to re-enter the fight, as becomes a prince. 

Prince Henry then, finding his father and Douglas en- 
gaged at swords' point, calls the King off, and, after a brief 
combat with Douglas himself, makes the latter fly. Prince 
Henry next fights with and kills Hotspur. Light jobs for 

princes ! 

Act Y, Scene 5. 

King Henet {to Worcester). 

Three knights upon our part slain to-day, 
A noble earl, and many a creature else, 
Had been alive this hour, 
If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne 
Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 

THE LEGAL POINTS. 

The first legalism found by Lord Chief Justice Campbell 
in this play is, that " the partition of England and Wales, be- 



212 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

tween Mortimer, Glendower, and Hotspur," is conducted by 
Shakespeare in as attorney-like fashion as if it bad been the 
partition of a manor between joint tenants, tenants in com- 
mon, or copartners. 

Mokttm. England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, 
By south and east is to my part assigned : 
And westward, Wales, beyond the Severn shore : 
And all the fertile land within that bound, 
To Owen Glendower: 
And, dear coz, to you, 

The remnant northward, lying off from Trent; 
And our indentures tripartite are drawn^ 
Which, being sealed interchangeably — 

" It may well be imagined," continues his lordship, " that 
in composing this speech Shakespeare was recollecting how he 
had seen a deed of partition tripartite drawn and executed in 
his master's office at Stratford. 

" Afterward, in the same scene, he makes the unlearned 
Hotspur ask impatiently: 

" ' Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone ? ■ 

" Shakespeare may have been taught that ' livery of seisin ' 
was not necessary to a deed of partition, or he would proba- 
bly have directed this ceremony to complete the title. 

" So fond is he of law terms that afterward, when Henry 
IV is made to lecture the Prince of Wales on his irregularities, 
and to liken him to Richard II, who, by such improper con- 
duct, lost the crown, he uses the forced and harsh figure that 
Richard 

' Enfeoffed himself to popularity' (Act III, Scene 2). 

" I copy Mai one's note of explanation on this line : ' Gave 
myself up absolutely to popularity. A feoffment was the an- 
cient mode of conveyance, by which all lands in England were 
granted in fee-simple for several ages, till the conveyance of 
lease and release was invented by Sergeant Moor about the 
year 1830. Every deed of feoffment was accompanied with 
livery of seisin, that is, with the delivery of corporal possession 
of the land or tenement granted in fee.' " 



"Henry IV?— Part II 213 

The other lines which Lord Campbell finds to support this 
view in this play are the line last quoted and the further 
lines in the fourth act : 

" He came but to be duke of Lancaster, 
To sue his livery, and beg bis peace." 



The Second Part of "Henry IV" followed immediately 
upon the heels of the First. It was probably written in 159T, 
as it is mentioned in Meares's " Wit's Treasury " in 1598, and 
contains an allusion to a political event which took place in 
1596. It is but a continuation of the First Part, and carries 
through it the same tone, and, with the exception of the bril- 
liant Hotspur and one or two indifferent figures, the same 
characters. It supplies us, therefore, with no new argument 
or theme, but I find it chiefly remarkable for its presenta- 
tion, without the slightest condemnation by our poet, of one of 
the most monstrous and frightful pieces of treachery by the 
party he favors which the history of civilization gives any 
record of. The murder of the sons of Amurath III, by their 
brother Mahomet, that took place in Turkey, in February, 
1596, and which is the political event above alluded to that 
marks its date, does not begin to equal it in atrocity and hor- 
ror. And yet Shakespeare never droops his eye with con- 
demnation of it; nor can I find that this conduct on the part 
of our poet arouses the reprobation of any of the commenta- 
tors. 

The dreadful deed I speak of. occurs in the first scene of 
the fourth act. The rebels, who, in the First Part, had been 
led by Hotspur, Glendower, and Mortimer, and were beaten 
at Shrewsbury, with the loss of Parcy — 

u "Wbose spirit lent a fire 
Even to tbe dullest peasant in bis camp " — 

have again made head under the Archbishop of York, the 
Duke of Northumberland, and Lords Hastings and Mowbray, 
supported by Glendower, with an army in Wales. 

The main body of these rebels are in Yorkshire, under the 



214 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

command of the Archbishop, and, while they stand awaiting 
the attack of the royal army, the Earl of Westmoreland comes 
as an ambassador from Prince John, and thus opens his nego- 
tiations : 

Act IV, Scene 1. 

"West. Health and fair greeting from our general, 

The prince, lord John and duke of Lancaster, 
Aboh. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in peace; 

What doth concern your coming? 
West. Then, my lord, 

Unto your grace do I in chief address 

The substance of my speech. 

Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, 

Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, 

Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war? 

Aech. Briefly to this end : 

• The Archbishop then details the rebels' grievances. 
Westmoreland replies, and tenders liberal terms if they 
will lay down their arms. He adds : 

This offer comes from mercy, not from fear, 
For lo ! within a ken, our army lies : 
Upon mine honour, all too confident 
To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
Our battle is more full of names than yours, 
Our men more perfect in the use of arms, 
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best; 
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good: 
Say you not then, our offer is compell'd. 

Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission, 

In very ample virtue of his father, 

To hear, and absolutely to determine 

Of what conditions we shall stand upon ? 
West. That is intended in the generaVs name : 

I muse, you make so slight a question. 
West. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this, 

For this contains our general grievances : 

Each several article herein redress'd; 

All members of our cause, both here and hence, 

That are insinew'd to this action, 

Acquitted by a true substantial form ; 



"Henry IV."— Part II. 215 

And present execution of our wills 

To us, and to our purposes, consign'd ; 

"We come within our awful banks again, 

And knit our powers to the arms of peace. 
West. This will I show the general. Please you, lords, 

In sight of both our battles we may meet : 

And either end in peace, which heaven so frame ! 

Or to the place of difference call the swords 

"Which must decide it. 
Aeoh. My lord, we will do so. [Exit "Westmobeland. 

The scene then changes, so as to bring the hostile com- 
manders confronted with each other. 

Enter from one side, Mowbeat, the Aechbishop, Hastings, and Others; 
from the other side, Pbinoe John of Lanoastee, "Westmobeland, 
Officers, and Attendants. 

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray : 
Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop, 
And so to you, lord Hastings — and to all, 

Aeoh. Good, my lord of Lancaster, 

I sent your grace 

The parcels and particulars of our grief ; 

The which hath been with scorn shoved from the court, 

"Whereon this Hydra son of war is born ; 

"Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep, 

"With grant of our most just and right desires; 

And true obedience, of this madness cured, 

Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. 
Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes 

To the last man. 
Hast. And though we here fall down, 

"We have supplies to second our attempt ; 

If they miscarry, theirs shall second them : 

And so success of mischief shall be born, 

And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up, 

"Whiles England shall have generation. 
P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow, 

To sound the bottom of the after-times. 
"West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them directly, 

How far forth you do like their articles. 
P. John. I like them all, and do allow them well ; 

And swear, here, by the honour of my blood, 

My father's purposes have been mistook ; 



216 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



Aech. 
P. John. 

Hast. 



Arch. 
West. 



Aeoh. 
West. 

Mowb. 

P. John - . 

Mowb. 

Aech. 



P. John. 



Aeoh. 



P. John. 



And some about him have too lavishly 

Wrested his meaning and authority. 

My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress 1 d; 

Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you t 

Discharge your powers unto their several counties. 

As we will ours ; and here, between the armies, 

Lefs drink together friendly, and embrace, 

That all their eyes may bear those tokens home 

Of our restored love and amity. 

I take your princely word for these redresses. 

I give it you, and will maintain my word: 

And thereupon I drink unto your grace. 

Go, captain [to an Officer], and deliver to the army 

This news of peace ; let them have pay, and part : 

I know it will please thein ; hie thee, captain. [Exit Officer, 

To yon, my noble lord of Westmoreland. [Drinks, 

I pledge your grace: [drinks] and, if you knew what pains 

I have bestowed to breed this present peace, 

You would drink freely ; but my love to you 

Shall show itself more openly hereafter. 

I do not doubt you. 

I am glad of it — 
Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray. [Drinks, 
Yon wish me health in very happy season; 
For I am on the sadden something ill. [Shouts within. 

The word of peace is render'd. Hark, how they shout I 
This had been cheerful, after victory. 
A peace is of the nature of a conquest, 
For then both parties nobly are subdued, 
And neither party loser. 

Go, my lord, 
And let our army be discharged too. [Exit Westmoreland. 
And good, my lord [to the Archbishop], so please you, let 

your trains 
March by us, that we may peruse the men 
We should have coped withal. 

Go, good lord Hastings ; 
And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. 

[Exit Hastings. 
I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. 



Re-enter Westmoreland. 

Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still ? 
West. The leaders having charge from you to stand, 

Will not go off until they hear you speak. 
P. John. They know their duties. 



''Henry IV."— Part II 217 

Re-enter Hastings. 

Hast. My lord, our army is dispersed already. 

Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses 
East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, 
Each hurries towards his home and sporting-place. 

"West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings ; for the which 
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason : — 
And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbray ; 
Of capital treason I attach you both. 

Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable? 

West. Is your assembly so ? 

Aech. Will you thus break your faith? 

P. John. I pawn'd thee none. 

I promised you redress of these same grievances, 
Whereof you did complain ; which, by mine honour, 
I will perform with a most Christian care. 
But, for you, rebels, look to taste the due 
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours. 
Most shallowly did you these arms commence, 
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence. — 
Strike up our drums ! pursue the scatter'd stray ; 
Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. — 
Some guard these traitors to the block of death : 
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. 

Upon the conclusion of this horrid treachery, the scene 
passes off, without a word of censure from our poet, to a merry 
interlude between Falstaff and Sir John Colevile, a gentle- 
man whom the fortune of war has thrown into the fat knight's 
hands. While this burlesque is going on, Prince John, West- 
moreland, and others, yet dripping and steaming with their 
most heinous and unspeakable atrocity, come in. After en- 
joying the fun between Falstaff and Colevile, Westmoreland, 
who had temporarily gone out to order the royal forces to de- 
sist from further butchery, reenters, and Prince John addresses 
him: 

P. John. Kow y have you left pursuit ? 

West. Retreat is made, and execution stayed. 

P. John. Send Colevile, with his confederates, 

To York to present execution : 

Blunt, lead him hence ; and see you guard him sure. 

[Exeunt some with Colevile. 

And now despatch we toward the court, my lords. 



218 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The King, who is always canting about a pious pilgrimage 
to the Holy Land, but who bargained with Sir Pierce Exton 
to assassinate King Richard, and then refused to pay him for 
the deed, receives this glorious news with uncriticising joy, 
and is ready to start to Jerusalem again. 

I think the above recapitulation fully justifies the remark 
which I have previously made, that, while Shakespeare has 
infinite genius, he seems too often to be devoid of moral prin- 
ciple and conscience. 

There are but few other lines which demand our attention 
in this play. The first that fits our theme occurs in the In- 
duction, where Rumour says : 

" My office is 
To noise abroad, — that Harry Monmouth fell 
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword; 
And that the king before the Douglas' rage 
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. 
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns." 

In Act II, Scene 4, we have the following fling at a Prot- 
estant clergyman, through the mouth of the not very reputa- 
ble Dame Quickly, hostess of the Boar's Head tavern: 

Hostess. Tilly-fally, Sir John, never tell me ; your ancient swaggerer 
comes not in my doors. I was before Master Tisick, the deputy, the other 
day ; and, as he said to me, — it was no longer ago than Wednesday last, — 
"Neighbour Quickly," says he; — Master Dumb, our minister, was by 
then; "Neighbour Quickly," says lie, "receive those that are civil; for/ 
saith he, "you are in an ill name." 

I have but few observations to make upon these earlier 
illustrations, but I can not resist the remark that the theory 
of the Baconians, that the Lord Chancellor was ashamed to 
acknowledge himself as the author of the Shakespeare plays, 
has a sort of support in the gross immorality and vile lan- 
guage of many portions of the Second Part of " Henry IY." 
For, surely, any well-bred gentleman might well be ashamed 
of the rank brothel wit and the revolting fecundity of obscene 
slang which characterize the earlier scenes of this play, in 
which Doll Tear-sheet figures with Falstaff and Dame Quick- 
ly. Actors delivering such language and figuring through 
such scenes, may be said to have naturally earned the epithets 



"Henry IV?— Part II 219 

of " harlotry players " and of " vagabonds." In this connec- 
tion, I will avail myself of the opportunity, before passing 
from the Falstaflian plays, of calling a moment's attention to 
the puzzling character of Nym. ISTo commentator seems to 
have been able to comprehend this piece of vague caprice, 
and, for my own part, I am forced to the conclusion that he 
must have represented the caricature of some well-known per- 
son — perhaps an amorous London alderman, who had been 
caught in some queer scrape, and possibly extricated himself 
with the exclamation of " That's the humour of it " ; the repeti- 
tion of which special expression would always be good, with a 
local audience, for a laugh. Without some such surmise as 
this, ]STym must pass with most persons as a puzzle, or, at 
best, an idiot. 

I have only to add, in passing from this play, that the 
legalisms exhibited on Shakespeare's behalf in the course of it 
by Lord Chief Justice Campbell do not call for any special 
attention. 



220 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 



CHAPTEE XXIY. 



The date of the production of this play is fixed at 1599 or 
1600. It is the opinion of some that Shakespeare approached 
the subject of Henry Y reluctantly, in consequence of its pau- 
city of domestic incident, and that he finally undertook it 
only because obliged to keep " the promise made at the close 
of the Second Part of ' King Henry IY,' to the effect that 
he would introduce the wars of King Henry Y upon the 
stage, and make the audience merry with fair Katharine of 
France." 1 " The date of the authorship of the play is shown 
decisively," says Hunter, " to have been in 1599, by the poet'3 
allusion, in the Chorus to the fifth act, to the Earl of Essex's 
campaign in Ireland, and his hoped-for return, which took 
place in September of that year : 

" As, by a lower but by loving likelihood, 
"Were now the general of our gracious empress 
(As, in good time, he may) from Ireland coming, 
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, 
How many would the peaceful city quit, 
To welcome him ! " 

" There can be no doubt," remarks Kenny, u that these 
lines refer to the expedition of the Earl of Essex to Ireland," 
adding that it was very likely " Shakespeare was the more 
disposed to indulge in this kindly allusion from the fact that 
his own special patron, the Earl of Southampton, served in 

1 " Studies and "Writings of Shakespeare," by Joseph Hunter, vol. ii, p. 
58. London, 1845. 



"H.enry V." 221 

the expedition as Master of the Horse." a It is worthy of ob- 
servation here, that Hunter, in his notice of " Henry Y," re- 
marks that "the name of Fluellen, given to the Welsh soldier 
in this play, was probably taken from the name of William 
Fluellen, who was buried at Stratford, July 9, 1595 " ; a fact 
which works to the support of the Stratford authorship of the 
Shakespearean plays. Schlegel, in speaking of " King Henry 
Y," says it is doubtful if Shakespeare ever would have written 
the play of " Henry Y," " had not the stage previously pos- 
sessed it in the old play of ' The Famous Yictories,' because 
' Henry IY ' would have been perfect as a dramatic whole, 
without the addition of ' Henry Y ' ; but," adds he, " having 
brought the history of Henry of Monmouth np to the period 
of his father's death, the demands of an audience which had 
been accustomed to hail the madcap Prince of Wales as the 
conqueror of Agincourt compelled him to continue the story." 
Knight does not think Shakespeare would have chosen the 
subject of Henry Y for a drama, " for," says he, " as skillfully 
as he has managed it, and magnificent as the whole drama is 
as a great national song of triumph, there can be no doubt 
that Shakespeare felt that in this play he was dealing with a 
theme too narrow for his peculiar powers, . . . the subject 
being altogether one of lyric grandeur. . . . And yet, how 
exquisitely has Shakespeare thrown his dramatic power into 
this undramatic subject ! The character of the King is one 
of the most finished portraits that has proceeded from his 
master hand. ... It was for him to embody in the person 
of Henry Y the principle of national heroism ; it was for him 
to call forth the spirit of patriotic reminiscence." 

Upon this feature of the character of Shakespeare, Ger- 
vinus is not so enthusiastic as the English commentator. He 
thinks Shakespeare would have done better if he had not 
fallen too easily into the weakness of the age for boasting : 

'* It seems to me," he says, " more than probable that a 
jealous patriotic feeling actuated our poet in the entire repre- 
sentation of his Prince Henry ; the intention, namely, of ex- 

a " Life and Genius of Shakespeare," by Thomas Kenny, p. 241. Lon- 
don, 1864. 



222 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

hibiting by the side of his brilliant contemporary, Henry IV 
of France, a Henry upon the English throne equal to him in 
greatness and originality. The greatness of his hero, however, 
would appear still more estimable if his enemies were depicted 
as less inestimable. It alone belonged to the ancients to honor 
even their enemies. Homer exhibits no depreciation of the 
Trojans, and ^Eschylus no trace of contempt of the Persians, 
even when he delineates their impiety and rebukes it. In this 
there lies a large-hearted equality of estimation, and a noble- 
ness of mind, far surpassing in practical morality many subtile 
Christian theories of brotherly love. That Shakespeare dis- 
torts the French antagonists, and could not even get rid of his 
Yirgil-taught hatred against the Greeks, is one of the few 
traits which we would rather not see in his works; it is a 
national narrow-mindedness with which the Briton gained 
ground over the man. The nations of antiquity, who bore a 
far stronger stamp of nationality than any modern people, 
were strangers to this intolerant national pride." 

Kenny, in treating upon the view which Shakespeare's 
portrait of Henry Y gives us of the poet's own character, 
says: 

u ¥e do not know any other work of his in which his 
national or personal predilections have made themselves so 
distinctly visible. ... A large portion of the story has to 
be told, or merely indicated, by the choruses, in which the 
poet himself has to appear and to confess the inability of his 
art to reproduce the march and shock of armies, and, above 
all, the great scene on the field of Agincourt. 

"Some of the modern continental critics," continues this 
shrewd observer, " think they can see that not only was 
Henry V Shakespeare's favorite hero, but that this is the 
character, in all the poet's dramas, which he himself most 
nearly resembled. Many people will, perhaps, hardly be 
able to refrain from a smile on hearing of this conjecture. 
We certainly can not see the slightest ground for its adoption. 
The whole history of Shakespeare's life and the whole cast of 
Shakespeare's genius are opposed to this extravagant suppo- 
sition. We have no doubt that the poet readily sympathized 
with the frank and gallant bearing of the King. But we find 



"Henry V? 223 

no indication, in all that we know of his temperament, or of 
the impression which he produced upon his contemporaries, 
of that firm, rigid, self-concentrated personality which dis- 
tinguishes the born masters of mankind. 

"Henry V was necessarily peremptory, designing, unwa- 
vering, energetic, and self- willed ; Shakespeare was flexible, 
changeful, meditative, skeptical, and self -distrustful. This 
was clearly the temperament of the author of the Sonnets ; it 
was, too, we believe, not less clearly the character of the won- 
derful observer and delineator of all the phases of both tragic 
and comic passion ; and it was, perhaps, in no small degree, 
through the very variety of his emotional and imaginative 
sensibility, and the very absence of that completeness and 
steadfastness of nature which his injudicious admirers now 
claim for him, that he was enabled to become the great 
dramatic poet of the world." 

Let me say here that I give all of the foregoing observa- 
tions to such large extent because they indicate, to my com- 
prehension, the vagrant and adaptable imagination of the 
playwright rather than the philosophical and scholarly respon- 
sibility of Bacon. 

The first thing which attracts attention in the text of 
" Henry V," as bearing upon the points of our inquiry, are 
the four opening lines in the Chorus : 

" O for a muse of fire, that would ascend 
The brightest heaven of invention ! 
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, 
And monarchs to oehold the swelling scene ! " 

The next occurs in the first scene of the first act, and ex- 
hibits our poet's predisposition to express himself reverently 
when referring to the Catholic religion : 

"For all the temporal lands, which men devout 
By testament have given to the church." 

Again : 

"The king is full of grace and fair regard, 
And a true lover of the holy church." 

The above two words, " devout" and " holy," could have 
been easily supplied by other equally descriptive terms ; but, 



224 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

inasmuch as Shakespeare always selects religious adjectives 
after this solemn and reverential fashion, they seem to be 
spontaneous evidences of settled Romanism. I think it is 
fair to conclude that no rigid Protestant, like Bacon, would 
invariably refer to the Catholic Church in this worshipful and 
bending way. 

In Scene 2 of the same act we have an intricate and 
learned exposition of the Salique law of France. It is given 
as a part of an abstruse legal digest of title for Henry as the 
lawful King of France, to justify and warrant his intended and 
then pending invasion of that country, and is so technical 
that it is impossible to resist the conclusion that Shakespeare 
must have ordered the statement from some lawyer for his 
purposes ; and it is not impossible he begged it from Lord Ba- 
con. It is a little singular that Lord Chief Justice Campbell 
should have utterly passed by this most conspicuous of all the 
evidences of law learning which the plays contain. Lord 
Campbell may, however, recognize this as an outside law 
exploit on the part of our poet, and probably thought it pru- 
dent to take no notice of it, inasmuch as it might impair his 
own previous arguments. It may be remarked, on the other 
hand, that Shakespeare took it almost bodily from Holins- 
hed, the historian; but that fact none the less affects the po- 
sition of Lord Campbell, for, if Shakespeare could utilize as 
much law learning as this from the pages of the old chron- 
icler, the field for his smaller scraps of legal phrase was ob- 
viously easier for him to work. 

The main action of " Henry Y " consists in the invasion 
of France with thirty thousand men, twenty-four thousand of 
whom were foot soldiers and six thousand horse. The em 
barkation of these forces was made from Southampton, in 
fifteen hundred ships, on the 11th of August, 1415, and the 
whole were landed on the coast of France on the second day 
afterward. The first exploit of this army was to lay siege to 
Harfieur, for, in those days of pikes and cross-bows, prudent 
commanders never ventured to advance into an enemy's 
country with walled towns behind them. The place surren- 
dered on the 22d of September, after a siege of thirty-six 
days, when Henry, finding that two thirds of his force had 



"Henry V? 225 

perished by battle and by the ravages of a frightful dysentery, 
determined to fall back" on Calais, and abandon his expedi- 
tion. For the performance of this movement the English 
chroniclers say that the army remaining to him did not 
amount to more than eight thousand fighting men in all. 3 
Before capturing Harfleur, however, we find King Henry 
thus invoking the devoted remnant of his troops to the as- 
sault : 

K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 

Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide, 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
To his full height! — On, on, you noblest English, 
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war proof ? 

Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 

And teach them how to war! — And you, good yeomen, 

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 

The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 

That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; 

For there is none of you so mean and base 

That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 

There can scarcely be a wider distinction drawn between 
the merits of two classes of men than is here given for the 
nobles against the rank and file ; and we can see how Shake- 
speare holds mere soldiers in his estimation by the following 
reference to them immediately afterward, when Henry sent 
his last summons to the Governor of Harfleur to surrender : 

K. Hen. If I begin the battery once again, 

I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur, 

Till in her ashes she lie buried. 

The gates of mercy shall be all shut up ; 

And the flesh" 1 d soldier, — rough and hard of heart, — 

In liberty of bloody hand, shall range 

With conscience wide as hell ; mowing like grass 

Tour fresh fair virgins and your flowering infants. 

What is it then to me, if impious war, — 

Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, — 

8 Knight, vol. iii, p. 574, Appletons' New York edition. 
15 



226 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats 

Enlink'd to waste and desolation ? 

"What is't to me, when yon yourselves are cause, 

If your pure maidens fall into the hand 

Of hot and forcing violation ? 

"What rein can hold licentious wickedness, 

"When down the hill he holds his fierce career? 

We may as bootless spend our vain command 

Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil, 
As send precepts to the leviathan 

To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, 
Take pity of your town, and of your people, 
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ; 
"Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace 
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds 
Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany. 
If not, why, in a moment, look to see 

The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand 
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieMng daughters ; 

Your fathers taken by the silver beards, 

And their most reverend heads dasWd to the walls, 

Tour naked infants spitted upon pikes ; 

Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused 
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 

At this terrific threat the town surrenders. 

In a few days after, the King is about to take' his dimin- 
ished force, now reduced to certainly less than eight thou- 
sand men, to Calais ; but, on the point of this retreat, he is 
intercepted by the arrival of Montjoy, a herald, who brings 
from the French King a peremptory summons to surrender. 
Henry, after listening with patience, thus replies : 

K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back, 
And tell thy king — I do not seek him now ; 
But could be willing to march on to Calais 
"Without impeachment ; for, to say the sooth, 
(Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much 
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage), 
My people are with sickness much enfeebled ; 
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have, 
Almost no better than so many French ; 
Who, when they were in health, I tell thee, herald, 



"Henry V." 227 

I thought, upon one pair of English legs 
Did march three Frenchmen. 

The sum of all our answer is but this : 
We would not seek a battle, as we are ; 
Nor as we are, we say, we will not shun it; 
So tell your master. 

In Act IV, Scene 1, we have Pistol interrogating King 
Henry, while the latter is walking about the camp in disguise, 
during the night before the battle of Agincourt : 

Pistol. Discuss unto me ; art thou officer ? 

Or art thou oase, common, and popular f 
King. I am a gentleman of a company. 

After a while the King is left alone, when, surveyingm 
his mind the dangers of the morrow, the labors and responsi- 
bilities, the suffering and the wakefulness, which he is obliged 
to undergo, he indulges in the following fit of the blues : 

" ¥0, thou proud dream, 
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose ; 
I am a king that find thee ; and I know, 
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, 
The inter-tissued robe of gold and pearl, 
The farced title running 'fore the king, 
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
That beats upon the high shore of this world;' 

Ko, not all these, thrice gorgeous ceremony, 

Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave; 

Who, with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, 

Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; 

Never sees horrid night, the child of hell; 

But, like a lackey, from the rise to set, 

Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 

Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn, 

Doth rise, and help Hyperion to his horse; 

And follows so the ever-running year 

With profitable labour, to his grave : 

And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, * 

Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep, 



228 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. 

The slave, a member of the country's peace, 

Enjoys it ; but in gross brain little wots 

"What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace, 

Whose hours the peasant best advantages." 

This gloomy dissertation upon the animal advantages of 
being a vacant-minded, wretched slave, who, after sleeping 
sound, rises in the morning, only too happy to help his lord- 
ship to his horse, is naturally followed by a religious lit, in 
which his Majesty thus tries to drive a bargain with the King 
of Hosts : 

" God of battles ! steel my soldiers' hearts ! 
Possess them not with fear! Take from them now 
The sense of reckoning of the opposed numbers ! 
Pluck their hearts from them not to-day, O Lord, 
O, not to-day ! Think not upon the fault 
My father made in compassing the crown! 
J Richard's body have interred new ; 
And on it have oestoixPd more contrite tears 
Than from it issued forced drops of Mood. 
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
Who twice a day their withered hands hold up 
Toward heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have built 
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will 1 do : 
Though all that I can do is nothing worth ; 
Since that my penitence comes after all, 
Imploring pardon." 

And we shall presently see that, under our poet's patron- 
age, this pious penitence pays a rich percentage. But here 
let me pause a moment to remark that it seems hardly pos- 
sible the adorable picture presented in the reverential lines- 
Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests 
Sing still for Richard's soul — 

could have spontaneously formed itself in the mind of an; 
Protestant writer of the Elizabethan period of religious preju- 
dice and persecution. 

But the battle of Agincourt is approaching, and Shake 
speare thus presents the contrasted condition and numbers oi 
the combatants. 



"Henry V." 229 

We take the statement as the poet gives it first from the 
French camp : 

Act IV, Scene 2. — The French Camp. 
Present — The Dauphin, and others. 
Enter Grandpee. 
Gband. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France ? 
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field : 
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose, 
And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
Big Mars seems bankrout in their beggared host, 
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, 
With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor fades 
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips ; 
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes ; 
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit 
Lies foul with chawed grass, still and motionless ; 
And their executors, the knavish crows, 
Fly o"*er them all, impatient for their hour. 

The scene now shifts to the English camp. 

Act IV, Scene 3. 
Enter the English Army. 
Glostee. Where is the king ? 

Bedfoed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. 
Westmoeeland. Of fighting men they have full threescore thousand. 
Exetee. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh. 4 
Salisbury. God's arm strike with us ! 'tis a fearful odds. 

This brings ns to the battle. The conflict is in favor of 
King Henry from the first, but it rages with such violence, 
and the English are so wearied, even by the weight of their 
success, that in the midst of it Henry issues the bloody but 
possibly the necessary order that every soldier kill his prisoners. 

King. The French have reinforced their scatter'd men ; 
Then every soldier kill his prisoners ; 
Give the word through ! 

4 This last remark, if it is to be credited, brings the English line of 
battle suddenly up to twelve thousand. 



230 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

One of the English historians, Sir H. Nicolas, thus alludes 
to the battle : 

" The immense number of French proved their ruin. . . . 
The battle lasted three hours. The English stood on heaps 
of corpses which exceeded a man's height. The French, in- 
deed, fell almost passive in their lines. . . . The total loss of 
the French was about ten thousand slain on the field; that 
of the English appears to have been about twelve hundred. 
. . . The English king conducted himself with his accustomed 
dignity to his many illustrious prisoners. The victorious 
army marched to Calais in fine order, and embarked for Eng- 
land (on the 17th of November), without any attempt to fol- 
low up their victory." 

The following is Shakespeare's account of the result : 

Act IY, Scene 8. 
Enter an English Herald. 

K. Hen. Now, herald ; are the dead number'd ? 

Hee. Here is the number of the slaughter'd French. 

[Delivers a paper. 

K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle? 

Exetee. Charles, duke of Orleans, nephew to the king; 

John, duke of Bourbon, and the lord Bouciqualt: 
Of other lords, and barons, knights, and 'squires, 
Full fifteen hundred, desides common men. 

K. Hen. This note doth tell me often thousand French 

That in the field lie slain : of princes, in this number, 
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
One hundred and twenty-six : added to these, 
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, 
Eight thousand and four hundred ; of the which, 
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights: 
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, 
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries ; 
The rest are— princes, oarons, lords, Tonights, 'squires, 
And gentlemen of olood and quality. 

Here was a royal fellowship of death ! — 
"Where is the number of our English dead ? 

[Herald presents another paper. 
Edward, the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk, 
Sir Richard Ketley, Davy Gam, esquire ; 
None else of name ; and of all other men, 



"Henry V!' 231 

But five and twenty. God, thy arm was here, 

And not to us, but to thy arm alone, 

Ascribe we all! — When, without stratagem, 

But in plain shock, and even play of battle, 

"Was ever known so great and little loss, 

On one part and on the other? — Take it, God, 

For it is only thine ! 

Do we all holy rites; 

Let there be sung Non Nobis, and Te Deum. 

The dead with charity enclosed in clay, 

We'll then to Calais ; and to England then, 

Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men. 

Here we have, according to Shakespeare, the loss of only 
twenty-nme men to the English, nobles and all, d,uring three 
hours' hard fighting, against the slaughter of ten thousand 
French ! — a result manufactured for the playhouse by a play- 
wright who was catering to audiences, as the playwrights of 
to-day cater for the uproarious swarms of the Surrey The- 
atre, in London, the Cbatelet, in Paris, or the Bowery Theatre, 
in ISTew York ; catering, however, only for their shouts and 
shillings — which Shakespeare knew how to do — and not for 
their sensible and historical appreciation, as would have been 
the aim of a rigid philosopher like Bacon. 

One incident occurred at the end of the battle, in Scene 7, 
which, though we have passed it in the course of our narrative, 
must not be overlooked. The French Herald enters and asks 
of Henry the usual privilege to go over the field and sort out 
the dead. The following is his language : 

Montjot. Great king, 

I come to thee for charitable licence, 
That we may wander o'er this bloody field, 
To book our dead, and then to bury them; 
To sort our nobles from our common men ; 
For many of our princes {woe the while!) 
Lie drowri'd and soaked in mercenary blood ; 
(So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
In blood of princes). 

It seems to me that had the author of these shameful lines 
possessed but one grain of true consideration for his kind, he 



232 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

might have constructed the above abominable paragraph 
somewhat after the following fashion : 

That we may wander o'er the "bloody field, 
To gather up our dear heroic dead, 
"Who, whether nobly or obscurely born, 
Have, by thus dying in their country's cause, 
Earn'd equal knighthood at the court of Heaven. 






"King Henry VI? — Part I. 233 



CHAPTER XXV. 



This play and its two succeeding branches, known as Parts- 
II and III, though later in their chronology than u King 
John," and those plays which follow in order np to " Henry 
V," were undoubtedly written in advance of all the English 
historical series; and, while the authorship by Shakespeare of 
the First Part, or the fact of his having had any hand in it 
whatever, has been very seriously disputed, I must accept its 
authenticity for the purposes of this inquiry, without entering 
into the discussion. The play comes to us in the regular 
and authorized edition of Shakespeare's dramatic works, and 
this is sufficient warrant for us to proceed as if the origin of 
its text never had been questioned. Indeed, so much has 
been written in the dispute, and there is still so much left to 
dispute about, that, by touching it at all, I fear I should only 
add to the confusion of the reader. All the commentators 
agree, however, that, if Shakespeare was the author of the 
Eirst Part of " Henry VI," it must have been among the ear- 
liest efforts of his genius. 

The character of Henry YI is that of a weak, variable, 
puling saint, who, had he been a strong man, might have 
saved to England the conquests of his father, and prevented 
the House of Lancaster from falling before the bolder sword 
of York. With this mere glimpse at the character of such a 
poor offspring of a warrior sire, I will proceed to the illus- 
trations which support especial portions of our theme. 

It will be recollected that, in the course of the examination 
which arose in the earlier portion of this work, on the subject 



234 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

of the religious faith of our poet, liberal illustrations were 
given from the text of several of the plays. Among these 
were extracts of considerable length from the play before us, 
going to show the spontaneity of Shakespeare's Catholic sen- 
timents and predilections. To avoid repetition, therefore, I 
will now simply refer the reader back to pages 71 to 74, as 
portions of this chapter. 

As we follow the pomp of these dramatic histories, awed 
or intoxicated by the swelling imagery which invites our 
homage to the kings and nobles who are the darlings of our 
poet's soul, we naturally look now and then for courage or 
worthiness in some humbler characters, upon whom our poet 
might condescend to bestow a portion of his beneficent con- 
sideration. But we constantly look in vain ; for William 
Shakespeare takes not the slightest respectful interest in any- 
thing below the status of a gentleman. On the contrary, he 
usually prefers to elevate his aristocratic pets by the mean 
process of degrading every character not possessed of rank or 
station. 

The first illustration which the " Henry YI " gives us of 
this deplorable tendency occurs in the speech of Joan of Arc, 
when she describes the humbleness of her birth to the Dauphin 
of France : 

Puoelle. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd 's daughter, 
My wit x untrain'd in any kind of art. 
Heaven, and our Lady gracious, hath it pleased 
To shine on my contemptible estate : 
Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, 
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, 
God's mother deigned to appear to me ; 
And, in a vision full of majesty, 
"Will'd me to leave my base vocation. 

Act /, Scene 2. 

"We find this disdain for inferior birth still more extrav- 
agantly expressed in Scene 4 of the same act, where Tal- 
bot, the leader of the English forces in France, declares that, 

1 The word " wit," in our poet's time, usually meant intellect or intel- 
ligence, and not wit as we use the word now. 



"Henry VI"— Part I. 235 

on one occasion, when he was held a prisoner, he preferred 
the alternative of death to the insult of being exchanged for 
a French prisoner of inferior condition. 

Talbot. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner, 

Called the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles ; 

For him I was exchang'd and ransomed. 

But with a laser man of arms oy far, 

Once, in contempt, they would have oarter^d me; 

Which I, disdaining, scorn'd ; and craved death 

Rather than Iioould oe so piVd- esteemed. 

In fine, redeem'd I was as I desired. 

The next instance occurs during the course of the quarrel 
between Somerset and Plantagenet, in the memorable scene 
in the Temple Garden, where the plucking of the white and 
red roses signalizes the initiative of the long strife between 
the houses of York and Lancaster. Somerset in this scene 
taunts Plantagenet with the attainder of his father, Richard, 
Earl of Cambridge, who was executed at Southampton for 
treason in the previous reign of Henry Y. Somerset, in his 
tirade, thus describes the effect of such a ban : 

Somerset. "Was not thy father, Eichard, earl of Cambridge, 
For treason executed in our late king's days ? 
And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, 
Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? 
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy Mood ; 
And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. 

Again, Talbot, in the next act, taunts the French, who are 
on the walls of Rouen : 

Talbot. Base muleteers of France ! 

Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls, 
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. 

Finally, in order to put the climax of reprobation on low 
birth and its assumed degraded instincts, Shakespeare make3 
the inspired maid, Joan of Arc, deny her own father in most 
opprobrious terms, her chief accusation being against the 
meanness of his birth. The following is Shakespeare's de- 
scription of this extraordinary scene : 



236 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Camp of the Duke of York, in Anjou. 
Enter York, Warwick, and others. 
York. Bring forth that sorceress, condernn'd to burn. 
Enter La Pucelle, guarded, and a Shepherd. 
Shep. Ah, Joan ! this kills thy father's heart outright ! 

Have I sought every country far and near, 

And, now it is my chance to find thee out, 

Must I behold thy timeless, cruel death? 

Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee ! 
Puo. Decrepit miser ! 2 base, ignoble wretch! 

I am descended of a gentler blood ; 

Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine. 
Shep. Out, out ! — My lords, an please you, 'tis not so ; 

I did beget her, all the parish knows : 

Her mother liveth yet, can testify 

She was the first fruit of my bachelorship. 
"War. Graceless ! wilt thou deny thy parentage ? 
York. This argues what her kind of life hath been ; 

Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes. 
Shep. Eye, Joan ! that thou wilt be so obstacle ! 

God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh : 

And for thy sake have I shed many a tear : 

Deny me not, I pr'y thee, gentle Joan. 
Puo. Peasant, avauntf You have suborn' d this man 

Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. 

York. Take her away ; for she hath lived too long 

To fill the world with vicious qualities. 
Pro. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts ? 

Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity ; 

That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. 

I am with child, ye bloody homicides ; 

Murder not then the fruit within my womb, 

Although ye hale me to a violent death. 
York. Now, heaven forefend ! the holy maid with child ? 
War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought : 

Is all your strict preciseness come to this ? 
York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling : 

I did imagine what would be her refuge. 

Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee : 
Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. 
Puo. Then lead me hence ; — with whom I leave my curse : 
May never glorious sun reflex his beams 

2 " Miser " means, in this connection, miserable person. — DuTCKEsrcK. 



"King Henry VI? — Part L 237 

Upon the country where you make abode ! 

But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 

Environ you : till mischief, and despair, 

Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves ! 

[Exit, guarded. 
York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes, 
Thou foul accursed minister of hell ! 

In Scene 5 of Act Y we have the following expression by 
Suffolk, in reply to an objection raised by some of Henry's 
nobles, that the proposed dower of Margaret is insufficient for 
the consort of a king : 

Suffolk. So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, 
As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. 
Marriage is a matter of more worth, 
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship. 

King Henry, after hearing this speech, orders Suffolk to 
go and entreat — 

" That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd 
King Henry's faithful and anointed queen ; 
For your expenses and sufficient charge 
Among the people gather up a tenth." 

Lords, lords, lords; nothing but princes and lords, and 
the People never alluded to except as worthless peasants, or 
to be scorned as scabs and hedge-horn swains. Surely the 
privileged classes of Great Britain can not defend the suprem- 
acy of Shakespeare's intellect too stubbornly. As I have said 
before, they have an interest in keeping up a prestige for the 
Bard of Avon beyond all price — though it suggests itself, 
in this connection, that those classes exhibit an impolitic 
greediness when they try to prove, under the leadership of 
such social autocrats as Palmerston, that the author of these 
plays was a noble like themselves. The services rendered to 
their order by the transcendent muse of Shakespeare would 
be of tenfold value if coming from a commoner than through 
the medium of rank. But errors of this stamp are always 
made in unjust causes. The bards who string their lyres for 
liberty receive only the frowns of Corinthian society ; and no 
room is allowed for the unrespected ashes even of the dero- 
gate liberty-loving noble, Byron, in Westminster Abbey. 



238 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEE XXYI. 



Whatever the blind idolators of Shakespeare may offer 
in excuse for his abject servility to the privileged classes and 
for his aggressive contempt for humble birth and laborious 
avocation ; whatever extenuation may be made in the name 
of patriotism for his monstrous perversions of the truth of 
history — as in his account of the battle of Agincourt, and for 
usually making the English whip their enemies at the disad- 
vantage of about ten to one — no palliation can be set up for 
him in regard to the monstrous and inexcusable falsehoods 
which disgrace the pages of the above-entitled play as to the 
rebellion of Jack Cade, and about the character of that brave 
and devoted leader. The " love of country " which is pleaded 
in excuse for the English poet's exaggerations against the 
French, while it may be pardoned by some very loyal persons, 
is a far less worthy motive to any well-regulated mind than 
the love of humanity and truth. The first may be character- 
ized as a mere geographical affection, carefully inculcated by 
monarchs in their subjects for their own purposes, and ex- 
tending no further than the boundaries of their dominions ; 
while the latter are sentiments implanted by the Creator, as 
broad as his own mercy, as noble as his own beneficence, and 
comprehending, through the impulses of every good heart, the 
welfare and happiness of the whole human race. There can 
be no excuse for such an entire absence of philanthropy in 
any man as to justify his discharging the poor and humble 
so utterly from his consideration as Shakespeare always did, 
or to induce him to find his ideals of patriotism and worthi- 



"King Henry VI" — Part II 239 

ness only amid the ranks of their oppressors. Such a writer 
is a mere pander to the crimes of tyrants, and, whatever may 
be his intellectual eminence, he gives evidence that he has 
been perverted by accidental circumstances from the purpose 
he was commissioned by his great genius to perform. Grati- 
tude to earthly patrons, such as William Shakespeare's to 
Southampton and to Essex, or the weak yearning of the Strat- 
ford adventurer to invest his easily earned money in a coat of 
arms and become a gentleman, can never palliate the willful 
misrepresentations by which the poet has deceived his humble 
countrymen from an honest admiration of the patriotism of 
Jack Cade. 

THE REBELLION OF WAT TYLER. 

To properly measure this perversion of his noble powers 
by Shakespeare, we must look at the social condition of Eng- 
land in the time of which he wrote. The rebellion of Jack 
Cade against the oppressions of the nobles and the crown 
took place in 1450, one hundred and four years before our 
poet was born. Only one popular uprising had previously 
taken place in England, and that was known as " the rebellion 
of Wat Tyler," which occurred in 1381, just seventy-nine 
years previous to the rebellion of Jack Cade. As the move- 
ment of Tyler was the first general rising of the masses, and 
marks the dawn of popular liberty in England, we can not do 
better than to give a sketch of the social state of affairs which 
provoked it, from the most trustworthy chroniclers of the time. 
The principal of these chroniclers are Hall and Holinshed, 
by whose pages Shakespeare was mainly guided in his dra- 
matic histories. But Mackintosh, who wrote at a subsequent 
period and under better lights, is more liberal and reliable than 
either of the other two. In speaking of the oppressions of 
Wat Tyler's time, the latter writer says : 

" It is an error to trace to the charters which the barons 
extorted from their monarchs the liberties of England ; the 
triumphs of the nobles were theirs alone, and inured almost 
exclusively to their own advantage. The mass of the people 
were villeins or serfs, and they were left by those boasted 
charters in their chains. The condition of the bondmen dif- 



240 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

fered in degrees of degradation and cruelty (for the mere slaves 
— servi — were known by the names of theow, esne, and thrall, 
and distinguished from the villeins) ; but, even where most fa- 
vorable, it was a dark and inhuman oppression. The villeins 
were incapable of owning property, destitute of legal redress, 
and bound to services ignoble in their nature and indetermi- 
nate in their degree ; they were sold separately from the land, 
could not marry without consent, and were in nowise elevated 
above the beasts of burden with which they drudged in their 
unrequited and hopeless labor. At length their sufferings 
drove them into resistance, and that resistance, provoked and 
sanctified by unmeasured wrongs, has been by almost every, 
successive historian made the subject of misrepresentation 
and obloquy." 

Holinshed ascribes the insurrection of Wat Tyler to the 
"lewd demeanour of some indiscrete officers," but thus indig- 
nantly condemns the u disloyal " movement : 

"The commons of the realme sore repining, not onely 
for the pole grotes that were demanded of them, by reason of 
the grant made in parlement, but also for that they were sore 
oppressed (as they tooke the matter) by their landlords, that 
demanded of them their ancient customes and services, set on 
hy some develish instinct and persuasion of their owneoeastlie 
intentions, as men not content with the state whereunto they 
were called, rose in diverse parts of the realme, and assembled 
togither in companies, purposing to inforce the prince to 
make them free and to release them of all servitude, whereby 
they stood as bondmen to their lords and superiours." 

Judge Conrad, of Philadelphia, in an able essay prefixed 
to his tragedy of " Jack Cade," in waiting of these times from 
an American standpoint, describes as follows the outrage to 
which Holinshed alludes : 

" The overcharged feelings of the people were at length, 
by an outrage calculated in the highest degree to excite the 
passions of the multitude, let loose, and swept the land like 
a torrent. One of the insolent and rapacious officers for the 
collection of an oppressive poll-tax entered, during the absence 
of its proprietor, the cottage of a tiler — a man who seems to 
have been worthily esteemed by the populace. This tax was 



"King Henry VI" — Part II 241 

leviable upon females only when over fifteen years of age ; and 
the licentious officer, alleging that the beautiful daughter of 
the tiler was beyond that age, i therewith ' (we quote again 
from Holinshed), ' began to misuse the maid, and search 
further than honestie would have permitted. The mother 
straightwaie made an outcrie, so that hir husband being in the 
towne at worke, and hearing of this adoo at his house, came 
running home with his lathing staffe in his hand, and began 
to question with the officer, asking him who made him so 
bold to keepe such a rule in his house. The officer, being some- 
what presumptuous and high-minded, would forthwith have 
flown upon the tiler ; but the tiler, avoiding the officer's blow, 
caught him such a rap on the pate that his brains flue out, 
and so presentlie he died. Great noise rose about this mat- 
ter in the streets, and the poor folks being glad, everie man 
arraied himself to support John Tiler, and thus the commons 
drew togither and went to Maidestone, and from thence to 
Blackheath, where their numbers so increased that they were 
reckoned to be thirtie thousand. And the said John Tiler 
tooke vpon him to be their cheefe captaine, etc' 

" It would be difficult to imagine holier motives," re- 
sumes Judge Conrad, "to justify resistance to oppression 
than those unwittingly and unwillingly disclosed by the 
chroniclers, who represent the commons as the guiltiest male- 
factors. Their wrongs and sufferings were as dark and deadly 
as any which ever crushed a people. They had no hope of 
redress from courts or codes ; their only reliance was in their 
own union or hardihood; and the invocation to resistance 
proclaimed in the outrage upon the helplessness of the tiler's 
daughter was as sacred and moving as that by which Brutus 
or Yirginius aroused Rome. ISTor do the purity and eleva- 
tion of the cause suffer reproach from the conduct of its cham- 
pions. Wat Tyler soon found himself at the head of one 
hundred thousand men, 'the villeins and poor men 'of Kent, 
Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Sussex, and other eastern counties. 
Illiterate, unused to freedom, infuriated by wrongs and des- 
perate from misery, it might be supposed that so vast and 
disorganized a multitude would have rushed into boundless 
excesses. So far from it, it seems that, from the first, they 
16 



242 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

not only disclaimed treasonable designs, but administered to 
all an oath that £ they should be faithful to King Richard and 
the commons.' They soon obtained possession of London, and 
the Chancellor and the Primate suffered the death they mer- 
ited, i as evil counsellors of the crown and cruel oppressors 
of the people ! ' 

" The conduct of this vast multitude, provoked by a thou- 
sand wrongs, and with the power to secure an ample vengeance, 
and glut to the uttermost their rapacity on the spoil of their 
unsparing oppressors, presents a singular contrast with the 
dishonorable perfidy and sanguinary cruelty exhibited by 
their lords. Mackintosh, the only historian who does them 
even stinted justice, says: ' At this moment of victory the 
demands of the serfs were moderate, and, except in one in- 
stance, just. They required the abolition of bondage, the 
liberty of buying and selling in fairs and markets, a general 
pardon, and the reduction of the rent of land to an equal 
rate. The last of these conditions was indeed unjust and ab- 
surd ; but the first of them, though incapable of being carried 
into immediate execution without probably producing much 
misery to themselves, was yet of such indisputable justice on 
general grounds as to make it most excusable in the sufferers 
to accept nothing less from their oppressors.' But this usually 
accurate historian fails to inform us that the court, after a 
mature consideration of the demands of the commons, regu- 
larly and formally conceded all that was required. Doubts 
being entertained, as the result proved not without reason, ot 
the sincerity of the King and court, charters were demanded 
and granted securing the abolition of bondage, the redress 
of grievances, and a full pardon to all engaged in the insur- 
rection. The annals of royalty, clouded as they are with 
every crime of which human nature is capable, present few 
instances of such deliberate and atrocious perfidy, or craft so 
cowardly and base, consummated by cruelty so guilty and 
unsparing. 

" ' The commons having received this charter departed 
home.' The Essex men first left London, and those from 
other counties shortly followed. The leader of the Kentish- 
men, the unfortunate Wat Tyler, distrusted the fair dealing 



"King Henry VI! 1 — Part II. 243 

of the court, and in an interview with the King at Smithfield 
met a melancholy realization of his fears. Mackintosh, in 
relating the facts, remarks, ' It must not be forgotten that the 
partisans of Tyler had no historians.' But a careful review 
of the servile chroniclers of the court will satisfy the reader 
that Tyler was, in the presence of the King and under his 
guarantee of safety, basely assassinated. 

" This murder was but the first of thousands. The finale 
may be readily imagined. The solemn and sacred pardon of 
the King (Richard II) was disregarded ; the charter, with its 
sanction of covenants and oaths, was revoked. After the dis- 
persion of the commons, 'the men of Essex,' says Holinshed, 
'sent to the King to know of him if his pleasure was that 
they should enjoy their promised liberties.' The King, ' in 
a great chafe,' answered that 'bondmen they were and bond- 
men they should be, and that in more vile manner than before.' 
An army was sent against them, and all who did not escape 
into the woods were slain. Mackintosh admits that ' the re- 
volt was extinguished with the cruelty and bloodshed by 
which the masters of slaves seem generally anxious to prove 
that they are not of a race superior in any noble quality to 
the meanest of their bondmen. More than fifteen hundred 
perished by the hands of the hangman.' But Henry Kniston 
states that ' Then the king, of his accustomed clemencie, being 
pricked with pitie, would not that the wretches should die, 
but spared them, being a rash and foolish multitude, and com- 
manded them everie man to get him home to his owne house ; 
howbeit manie of them at the King's going awaie suffered 
death. In this miserable taking were reckoned to the num- 
ber of twentie thousand.' " 

I will also adopt Judge Conrad's description of the events 
of Cade's uprising, preferring his narrative to any recital of 
my own ; first, because a comparison of his with the histories 
of the period shows it to be entirely trustworthy, and next, 
because it is not susceptible of improvement at my hands. 

THE REBELLION OF CADE. 

"The period between this rebellion and the uprising of 
Cade, in 1450," says Judge Conrad, " had reduced England 



244 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

to the same condition as under the reign of Richard II. Vil- 
leinage, with all its sufferings and debasement, continued, and 
the commons were ground to the dust by the exactions of the 
court and the unbridled oppression of the barons. Thus, with 
disgrace abroad and agony at home, the contrast with the 
glory of the recent reign was insupportable ; and the popular 
discontent was manifested in risings, which, after the manner 
of the time, took the name of ' Blue Beard.' So intense was 
the excitement against Say and Suffolk that the latter, not- 
withstanding the efforts of the Queen to screen ' her darling,' 
met the fate which he so justly merited. Shortly after this 
execution a body of the peasantry of Kent met in arms at 
Blackheath, under a leader whose brief and eventful career 
has been made the subject of unmeasured misrepresentation. 

" Stowe alone represents his name to have really been 
Cade, while in a contemporary record he is called Mr. John 
Aylmere, Physician ('Ellis's Letters,' I, Second Series, 112). 
This account seems to be fully entitled to credit ; it accords 
with the language and deportment of the chief of the. com- 
mons, and we doubt not that such were his name and profes- 
sion. It was, however, usual in such commotions to give to 
prominent actors, probably for purposes of concealment and se- 
curity, fictitious and popular names. Thus we have seen that 
Wat Tyler assumed the name of Jack Straw. All the popu- 
lar leaders appear thus to have borne names for the war. But 
Aylmere was not only called Jack Cade, for Polychronicon 
says he was i of some named John Mendall.' The chronicles 
furnish no proof that he ever acknowledged the name of Cade. 
In his communications with the Government he used merely 
the title of ' Captain of the Commons.' Mackintosh charac- 
terizes him as 4 a leader of disputed descent, who had been 
transmitted to posterity with the nickname of John Cade. 
On him they bestowed the honorable name of John Mortimer, 
with manifest allusion to the claims of the house of Mortimer 
to the succession, which were, however, now indisputably 
vested in Richard, Duke of York.' It seems that the friends 
of the Duke of York favored the insurrection, a fact of itself 
sufficient to attach dignity and importance to the movement. 
Hall and Holinshed agree in this statement. They describe 



"King Henry VI!' — Pari II 245 

him as ' a certeine young man of a goodlie stature and right 
pregnaunt of wit, who was intised to take upon him the name 
of John Mortimer, coosine to the Duke of York, and not for 
a small policie, but thinking by that surname that those which 
favoured the house of the Earle of Marche would be assistant 
to hi in. And so indeed it came to passe.' If Ay 1 mere per- 
mitted this title to be given him, he certainly did not use it 
in his addresses to the King and Parliament, nor in his letters 
which have been preserved. It is also certain that the name 
of Mortimer could not, in any event, have promoted any per- 
sonal design ; and that he never claimed power, rank, or re- 
ward for himself, his simple title being the Captain, and his 
sole efforts confined to the amelioration of the condition of the 
people. So far from seeking revolution, he most emphatically 
proclaimed his loyalty, and all his acts were in the name of 
the King. The title of Mortimer may have been given him 
as a demonstration of respect, for Fabyan says that ' the mul- 
titude named him Mortimer, and this kept the people won- 
drously togither.' 

" The leader who assumed the bold attitude of calm resist- 
ance must have been, if a physician at that period, superior 
to most of his opponents in the limited learning of the age. 
His letters, his addresses to the King and Parliament, his 
interview with the commissioners of the court, and the gen- 
eral tenor of his proceedings, prove the possession of an intel- 
lect of no ordinary cultivation and force ; and his military 
skill and success indicate experience and sagacity as a soldier. 
His first measure, after assuming a position on Blackheath, 
was to proclaim distinctly the object of ' the assembly of the 
commons.' We learn from Hall and Holinshed that — 

" ' He maintained also a correspondence with London, and 
his letters of safeguard to citizens passing to and from the 
camp and city are formally and well drawn, and prove that 
even then he received supplies of money and arms from the 
capital.' While thus organizing and disciplining his host, 
with a calmness and deliberation which manifest anything 
but the madness ascribed to him, 6 he devised,' says Fabyan, 
' a bill of petitions to the King and his council, and showed 
therein what injuries and oppressions the poor commons suf- 



246 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

fered by such as were about the King.' This proceeding is 
thus characterized by Holinshed : ' And to the intent the 
cause of this glorious captain's coming thither might be 
shadowed vnder a cloke of good meaning (though his intent 
nothing so), he sent vnto the King an humble supplication, 
affirming that his coming was not against his grace, but 
against such of his councellors as were louers of themselues 
and oppressors of the poor commonaltie ; flatterers of the King 
and enemies of his honour; suckers of his purse, and robbers 
of his subjects ; parciall to their friends and extreame to their 
enimies; through bribes corrupted, and for indifferencie doo- 
ing nothing.' The Parliament was then in session ; and this 
bill of complaint, together with the requests of the commons, 
was sent to that bodj as well as to the King. The ' Com- 
plaint of the Commons of Kent and the causes of their assem- 
ble on the Blackheathe' comprise fifteen items, set forth 
with great clearness and force, and manifesting as high an 
order of learning and ability as any state paper of the times. 
This Bill of Complaints, as given by Holinshed, affords con- 
clusive evidence that Aylmere, instead of being the ignorant, 
ferocious, and vulgar ruffian generally supposed, was a patriot, 
eminently enlightened and discreet. 

u The requests of this Bill of Complaints were disallowed 
by the council whom they accused, and some days after the 
King marched against the force under Aylmere ; but that 
leader seems to have been averse to the commencement of 
actual hostilities, especially against the King in person ; and 
he retired before him, taking post at Seven Oak, when the 
King returned to London. The withdrawal of Aylmere is 
considered by the chroniclers, who can imagine no good of 
the people's chief, a mere feint to entice the royal army into 
a more unfavorable position. The Queen, ' that bare rule,' 
shortly after sent Sir Humphrey Stafford with an army, to 
disperse the rebels. The Captain still desired to avoid the 
effusion of blood ; and we are told by Fabyan that, ' when Sir 
Humphrey, with his company, drew near to Seven Oak, he 
was warned of the Captain.' But this generous caution and 
unusual moderation, doubtless ascribed to pusillanimity, did 
not avail ; and Aylmere met the inevitable issue with the 



"King Henry VI" — Part II 247 

skill and courage of a tried soldier, and defeated them with 
great loss. 

" After this important victory the leader of the commons, 
says Mackintosh, ' assumed the attire, ornaments, and style of 
a knight ; and, under the title of Captain, he professed to pre- 
serve the country by enforcing the rigid observance of disci- 
pline among his followers.' Having refreshed his people, he 
resumed his position on Blackheath, c where he strongly en- 
camped himself, diverse idle and vagrant persons,' says Hol- 
inshed, ' out of Sussex, Surrie, and other places, still increasing 
his number.' The King and his council were now fully 
aroused to a sense of their danger; and they determined to 
have recourse to the policy of negotiation, promises, and per- 
fidy, found so effective in the previous insurrection. They 
accordingly sent to the leader, whose humble 'requests' they 
had received with such disdain, the Archbishop of Canterbury 
and the Duke of Buckingham, to treat of an accommodation. 
The report of this interview, derived as it is from writers 
prompt to blacken Aylmere, and reluctant to admit the slight- 
est point in his favor, establishes beyond doubt the elevation 
of his character and deportment. Fabyan says that the royal 
commissioners ' had with him long communication, and found 
him right discrete in his answers. Howbeit, they could not 
cause him to lay down his people, and submit him (uncondi- 
tionally) to the King's grace.' Holinshed's account after Hall 
is more full and expressive : ' These lords found him sober in 
talke, wise in reasoning, arrogant in hart, and stiffe in opin- 
ion ; as who that by no means would grant to dissolve his 
armie, except the King in person would come to him and 
assent to the things he would require.' The Captain, it seems, 
remembered the ill-faith practiced toward Wat Tyler, and 
was unwilling to place it in the power of the court to reenact 
that tragedy. Subsequent events proved how just were his 
suspicions. 

" The King was alarmed by the firm attitude of Aylmere, 
and still more by the disaffection evident among his own fol- 
lowers. . . . The Captain, notwithstanding his recent victory, 
his great force, and the natural impatience of his host, had 
forborne to advance against the King ; but his retreat ren- 



248 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

dered some decisive action now necessary. Nothing was to 
be expected from the court. Time was pressing ; for delay 
multiplied his dangers and increased the difficulty of holding 
together and restraining so vast and undisciplined a multitude. 
His only course was to take possession of the capital, and re- 
dress, through such legal authorities as he found in existence, 
or upon the warrant of the nation's expressed will, the griev- 
ances under which the realm was groaning. This step was, 
however, attended with great difficulty and peril, arising from 
his own aversion to the assumption of permanent authority, and 
the absence of the Duke of York, who might then have taken 
upon him, as he did afterward, the supreme control of affairs, 
and from the character of his force and the absence of regular 
resources for its maintenance. To prevent the excesses so 
much to be apprehended, he rigidly enforced the laws ; or, as 
Fabyan has it, ' to the end to blind the more people, and to 
bring him in fame that he kept good justice, he beheaded 
there a petty captain of his, named Parrys, for so much as he 
had offended against such ordinance as he had established in 
his host ; and hearing that the King and his lords had thus 
departed, drew him near unto the city, so that upon the first 
day of July he entered the burgh of Southwark.' Anxious to 
proceed w T ith the strictest regard to the peace and the privi- 
leges of the city, Aylmere next day caused the authorities of 
London to be convened. ' The Mayor called the Common 
Council at the Guildhall, for to purvey the understanding of 
these rebels, and other matters, in which assembly were divers 
opinions, so that some thought good that the said rebels should 
be received into the city, and some otherwise.' — (Fabyan.) 
He was, however, admitted. This submission to authority by 
a rebel at the head of a victorious army is, the age and cir- 
cumstances considered, a remarkable feature of the insurrec- 
tion. ' The same afternoon, about five of the clock, the Cap- 
tain with his people entered by the Bridge; and when he 
came upon the drawbridge, he hew the ropes that drew the 
bridge in sunder with his sword, and so passed into the city, 
and made in sundry places thereof proclamations in the King's 
name, that no man, upon pain of death, should rob or take 
anything perforce without paying therefor. By reason where- 



"King Henry VI!' — Part II 249 

of he won many hearts of the commons of the city ; but,' 
continues the charitable Fabyan, 'all was done to beguile the 
people. . . .' Thus it seems that he acted in full concert with 
the authorities ; that he did everything in his power to pre- 
vent and punish disorder ; and, that so anxious was he to 
avoid popular tumult, that he withdrew his force from the 
city, and did not permit his people to enter it, ' except at law- 
ful times.' The history of the times exhibits no instance of 
such consideration for the welfare of the people, on the part 
of monarchs or their barons, as is here manifested by ' the 
villainous rebel.' 

"It was necessary that Lord Say should be brought to 
trial. As he was in the custody of Lord Scales, this must 
have taken place with the sanction and actual aid of the 
court. ' On the third day of July,' says Fabyan, i the said 
Captain entered again the city, and caused the Lord Say to be 
fetched from the Tower and led into Guildhall, where he was 
arraigned before the Mayor and other of the King's justices.' 
Of his guilt there seems to have been neither doubt nor de- 
nial. Holinshed tells us that ' being before the King's justices 
put to answer, he desired to be tried by his peeres, for the 
longer delaie of his life. The Captaine, perceiving his dilatorie 
plea, by force tooke him from the officers, and brought him to 
the standard in Cheape ' ; where he suffered military exe- 
cution, a result which, in the excited state of public senti- 
ment, probably could not have been averted, and which the 
heavy catalogue of his crimes and the certainty that the 
Queen, had time been afforded, would have shielded him, per- 
haps justified. William Croumer, his brother-in-law and in- 
strument, and one of those charged before Parliament, suffered 
at the same time. These executions are bitterly denounced 
by the chroniclers ; but, according to their own accounts, Ayl- 
mere punished more of his own men for violations of the law 
than he did of those whose crimes and cruelty had provoked 
the insurrection ; and it may be doubted whether history af- 
fords an instauce of greater moderation and lenity, under 
circumstances so peculiar, than were exhibited by him, with 
the oppressors of his country in his power and a maddened 
people calling for justice. 



250 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" The leader of the commons continued, from a regard for 
the public safety, to occupy his position in Southwark until 
the 6th of July. During this period it is alleged that, in 
two instances, he made requisitions upon wealthy citizens of 
London ; and, indeed, it was only by such means that so large 
a host could have been sustained. This appears to have 
alarmed the mayor and aldermen ; and it is also probable that 
the utmost vigilance and rigor did not wholly repress occa- 
sional outrages of a character to excite the fears of the more 
wealthy citizens. The aid of Lord Scallys and Sir Matthew 
Gough, c then having the Tower in guiding,' was, under these 
apprehensions, solicited to prevent the reentrance of Aylmere 
into London. This induced a collision, ' and a battle or 
bloody scuffle was continued during the night on London 
Bridge, in which success seemed to incline to the insurgents.' 
— (Mackintosh.) In the morning a truce for certain hours 
was effected, during which a negotiation took place between 
the Archbishop of Canterbury, representing the King, and the 
Captain of the commons. On the part of the former every- 
thing would naturally be promised, for it was designed that 
no promise should be observed, and a covenant for all that 
was demanded was as readily violated as one for a part. The 
leader of the commons must have been conscious that his 
force could only be maintained by a forcible and necessarily 
unpopular levy of contributions ; and that, even if maintained, 
their impatience of discipline and anxiety to return to their 
homes rendered them unfit for the protracted struggle that 
seemed impending. To continue in the field threatened the 
worst horrors of civil war — a war in which he could have but 
little hope of long restraining his followers. Every considera- 
tion of humanity and patriotism seemed therefore to dictate 
an acceptance of the proffered concessions of the court. The 
compact was therefore concluded, and the commons thus 
won a seeming triumph. What was covenanted on the part 
of the court does not appear ; for the chroniclers are silent on 
that head, and the people ' had no historians.' Fabyan, how- 
ever, informs us that 'the Archbishop of Canterbury, then 
Chancellor of England, sent a general pardon to the Captain 
for himself, and another for his people ; by reason whereof he 



"King Henry VI!' — Part II. 251 

and his company departed the same night out of Southwark, 
and so returned every man to his home.' 

" The sequel is briefly told ; it is the old tale of perfidy 
and blood. The pardon was immediately revoked. ' Proc- 
lamations were made in divers places of Kent, of Southsex^ 
and Sowthery, that who might take the aforesaid Jack Cade, 
either alive or dead, should have a thousand marks for his 
travayle.' He was pursued and slain; 'and so being dead 
was brought into Southwark. And upon the morrow the dead 
corpse was drawn through the high streets of the city unto 
Newgate, and there headed and quartered, whose head was 
then sent to London Bridge, and his four quarters were sent 
to four sundry towns of Kent.' — (Fabyan.)" 

Nothing can gainsay these historical facts ; and, to use 
again the expression of Judge Conrad, it would be difficult to 
conceive a leader of nobler or purer purposes than Cade, or 
" to imagine holier motives to justify resistance to oppression n 
than those above set forth. And yet we behold how our 
poet, who is still worshiped as a god by the English-speaking 
race, and who almost divides the authority of the Bible in 
every American as well as English household, deliberately in- 
verts and distorts every popular truth in the interest of false- 
hood, selfishness, and tyranny. 



252 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 






CHAPTER XXVII. 

"KING HENRY VI." PAET II (CONTINUED). 

EEBELLION OF CADE. 

The foregoing historical facts, when read in contrast with 
our poet's wanton perversion of them in the above entitled 
play, bring his character for truth and fair dealing to a crisis. 
However much we may have been disposed to humor other 
portions of his text, and to tread carefully when charging him 
with want of sympathy for the poorer classes, it is obvious 
that there can be no two honest opinions about his treatment 
of Cade ; and we resign ourselves, without further struggle, 
to feelings of pain, and disappointment which must afflict 
every admirer of Shakespeare's genius at his deficiency of 
better nature. 

Unfortunately, there is no way of conceiving an excuse 
which can be creditable to our poet for his misrepresentation 
of the Kentish patriot. There was no uncertainty about the 
sources of his information. He had the truth laid before him 
by the same chroniclers whom he had taken as his guides in 
his previous dramatic histories ; but here, when these accepted 
servants of his muse present him with a glorious character, in 
a man of humble birth, he willfully falsifies every material 
fact concerning him, and consigns the popular cause he repre- 
sents, to ridicule not only, but even to execration. The dar- 
ing young leader, who is described by Hall and Holinshed as 
" a certeine young man of goodlie stature, and right pregnaunt 
of wit " (intellect), he deliberately represents as a mean, vulgar 
clown ; and, in the very face of the proofs that Cade main- 



"King Henry VI" — Part IL 253 

tained a correspondence with the King's representatives at 
London, and that " his letters of safeguard to citizens passing 
to and fro from the camp and city were formally and well 
drawn," our poet chooses to make him figure as an utterly 
illiterate brute, who condemns persons to death merely for 
knowing how to read and write. 

What makes this perversity more strange is that the natu- 
ral instinct of a poet should have led Shakespeare to the 
cause of the Liberator and the People. The theme was mag- 
nificent. The situation was new to letters and the stage. 
The temptations to dramatic effect were almost irresistible ; 
and how all these inducements to the truth could have been 
resisted, with the example of even the old court chroniclers to 
invite the poet toward generosity and justice, is a matter 
purely for amazement. 

It could hardly have been possible that such extreme syco- 
phancy to power was gratifying to a nobleman of such intel- 
lectual breadth as Essex, nor yet to our poet's other patron, 
the young Earl of Southampton ; for they were knights, and 
the generous spirit of chivalry had already for generations 
been emulating Christianity in inculcating admiration and 
respect for courage and high purpose, even in an enemy. We 
are thrown back upon our conjectures, therefore, hopeless of 
a reason except between toadyism and venality, and even be- 
tween these we are unable to conceive a motive adequate to 
such perversion. The injustice, consequently, leaves us as 
much puzzled over our poet's course as we were by his com- 
placent patronage of the unparalleled pertidy of Prince John 
of Lancaster. We therefore remain still unsettled as to the 
problem concerning his conscience and his heart. 

We may now proceed to the examination of the text of the 
Second Part of " King Henry YI," giving the illustrations 
which bear upon the popular branch of our inquiry as they 
come in order. The first of these occurs in the third scene 
of Act I, where York denounces an armorer's apprentice : 

York. Base, dunghill villain, and mechanical, 

I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech. — 
I do beseech your royal majesty 
, Let him have all the rigour of the law. 



254 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The next presents a singular instance of the extent of 
Shakespeare's familiarity with the intricacies of the Roman 
Catholic faith. The court is assembled in the palace of St. 
Albans, and King Henry, hearing a tumult outside, is in- 
formed that the townsmen are coming in procession to pre- 
sent to his Majesty a blind man, who had been miraculously 
restored to sight, upon which the King remarks : 

" Great is his comfort in this earthly vale. 
Although oy sight his sin oe multiplied." 

" That is to say," remarks Dowden, in his admirable essay 
on Shakespeare's Mind and Art, " if we had the good fortune 
to be deprived of all of our senses and appetites, we should 
have a fair chance of being quite spotless ; yet, let us thank 
God for his mysterious goodness to this man ! " Dowden's 
translation of this couplet is, no doubt, correct, for in turning 
over the leaves of " The Imitation of Christ," by Thomas a 
Kempis, a standard book of Catholic worship, I find what ap- 
pears to me to be the fountain of this theory in the following 
paragraphs : 

" For every inclination which appears good is not pres- 
ently to be followed, nor every contrary affection at first sight 
to be rejected. 

"Even in good desires and inclinations it is expedient 
sometime to use some restraint." * 

The next instance applies to Shakespeare's aristocratic 
leanings : 

Toek. Let pale- faced fear Tceep with the mean-born man, 
And find no harbour in a royal heart. 

And for the minister of my intent, 

I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, 

John Cade of Ashford, 

To make commotion, as full well he can, 

Under the title of John Mortimer. 

For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, 
In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble : 

1 Thomas a Kempis's "Imitation of Christ," p. 206. ', Edition of Benzi- 
ger Brothers, New York, 1873. 



"King Henry VI." — Part II. 255 

By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, 
How they affect the house and claim of York. 

The rumor of the adoption of Cade by the Duke of York 
was doubtless greedily accepted by Shakespeare from the 
chroniclers, with the view of degrading Cade's purposes in the 
rising just then about to follow. 

The following occurs in a quarrel during the next scene 
between Suffolk and Warwick : 

Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! 
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, 
Thy mother took into her blameful bed 
Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock 
Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou art, 
And never of the Nevil's noble race. 

'Tis like, the commons, rude unpolished hinds, 
Could send such message to their sovereign : 
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, 
To show how quaint an orator you are : 
But all the honour Salisbury hath won, 
Is — that he was the lord ambassador, 
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. 

Suffolk, the paramour of Queen Margaret, being taken 
prisoner by the captain of a boat, is threatened with immedi- 
ate death, without hope of ransom, and thus attempts to over- 
awe his captor : 

Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry" 1 s blood, 
The honourable blood of Lancaster, 
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. 
Hast thou not kiss'd my hand, and held my stirrup ? 
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule, 
And thought thee happy when I shook my head? 
How often hast thou waited at my cup, 
Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, 
When I have feasted with queen Margaret? 
Eemember it, and let it make thee crest-fall'n ; 
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride : 
How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood, 
And duly waited for my coming forth ? 

that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder 
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges ! 



256 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

Small things make base men proud : this villain here, 

Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more 

Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate. 

Drones suck not eagles' blood, out too beehives. 

It is impossible that I should die 

By such a lowly vassal as thyself. 

Thy words move rage, and not remorse in me: 

I go of message from the queen to France ; 

I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel. 

Nevertheless, the captain of the pinnace lays Suffolk's 
head on the gunwale of his boat and strikes it off. 

Act IV, Scene 2. — Blackheath. 

Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the Weaver, and others in 

great number. 

Cade. "We, John Cade, so termed of onr supposed father, — 

Dick. Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings. [Aside. 

Cade. for our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit 

of putting down kings and princes, — Command silence. 

Dick. Silence ! 

Cade. My father was a Mortimer, — 

Dick. He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer. [Aside. 

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet, — 

Dick. I knew her well, she was a midwife. [Aside. 

Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies, — 

Dick. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold many laces. [Aside. 

Smith. But, now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she 
washes bucks here at home. [Aside. 

Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. 

Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable ; and there was he 
born, under a hedge ; for his father had never a house, but the cage. [Aside. 

Cade. Valiant I am. 

Smith. 'A must needs ; for beggary is valiant. [Aside. 

Cade. I am able to endure much. 

Dick. No question of that ; for I have seen him whipped three market 
days together. [Aside, 

Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. 

Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. [Aside. 

Dick. But, methinks, he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' the 
hand for stealing of sheep. [Aside. 

Cade. Be brave, then ; for your captain is brave, and vows reforma- 
tion. There shall be, in England, seven half-penny loaves sold for a 
penny ; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it 
felony to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in common, and in 



"King Henry VI."— Part II. 257 

Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And, when I am king (as king I 
will be) — 

All. God save your majesty! 

Cade. I thank you, good people — there shall be no money ; all shall 
eat and drink on my score ; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that 
they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord. 

Diok. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. 

Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing that of 
the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parch- 
ment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man ? Some say, the bee stings ; 
but I say, 'tis the bee's wax, for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was 
never mine own man since. How now ? who's there ? 

Enter some, bringing in the Cleric of Chatham. 

Smith. The clerk of Chatham ; he can write, and read, and cast ac- 
compt. 

Cade. O, monstrous ! 

Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies. 

Cade. Here's a villain ! 
' Smith. H' as a book in his pocket, with red letters in't. 

Cade. Nay, then he is a conjuror. 

Dice:. Nay, he can make obligations and write court-hand. 

Cade. I am sorry for't ; the man is a proper man, on mine honour ; 
unless I find him guilty, lie shall not die. — Come hither, sirrah, I must ex- 
amine thee ; what is thy name? 

Cleek. Emmanuel. 

Dick. They use to write it on the top of letters. — 'Twill go hard with 
you. 

Cade. Let me alone. — Dost thou use to write thy name, or hast thou 
a mark to thyself, like an honest, plain-dealing man ? 

Cleek. Sir, I thank God I have been so well brought up that I can 
write my name. 

All. He hath confessed ; away with him ! he's a villain and a traitor. 

Cade. Away with him, I say ! hang him with his pen and ink-horn 
about his neck. [Exeunt some with the Clerk. 

Enter Michael. 
i Mioh. Where's our general ? 

Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. 

Mich. Fly, fly, fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard 
"by, with the king's forces. 

Cade. Stand ! villain, stand ! or I'll fell thee down. He shall be en- 
countered with a man as good as himself; he is but a knight, is 'a? 

Mich. No. 

Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently. [Kneels.] 
Kise up Sir John Mortimer. [Eises.] Now have at him. 

17 



258 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Enter Sir Humpheet Staffoed, and "William, his brother, with Drum 

and Forces. 

Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, 
Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down; 
Home to your cottage, forsaJce this groom. 
The king is merciful, if you revolt. 

"W. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, 
If you go forward ; therefore, yield or die. 

Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not ; 
It is to you, good people, that I speak, 
O'er whom in time to come I hope to reign; 
For I am rightful heir unto the crown. 

Staf. Villain ! thy father was a plasterer ; 
And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not? 

Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 

W. Staf. And what of that? 

Cade. Marry, this : — Edmund Mortimer, earl of March, 
Married the duke of Clarence's daughter, did he not ? 

Staf. Ay, sir. 

Cade. By her he had two children at one birth. 

W. Staf. That's false. 

Cade. Ay, there's the question ; but, I say, 'tis true. 
The elder of them, being put to nurse, 
Was by a beggar-woman storn away ; 
And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, 
Became a bricklayer when he came to age. 
His son am I ; deny it, if you can. 

Dick. Nay, 'tis too true ; therefore, he shall be king. 

Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks 
are alive at this day to testify it; therefore, deny it not. 

Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words, 
That speaks he knows not what? 

All. Ay, marry, will we ; therefore, get ye gone. 

W. Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath taught you this. 

Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself. [Aside.] — Go to, sirrah ; tell 
the king from me, that for his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose 
time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall 
reign ; but I'll be protector over him. 

Dick. And, furthermore, we'll have the lord Say's head for selling the 
dukedom of Maine. 

Cade. And good reason ; for thereby is England maimed, and fain to 
go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell 
you that lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it an 
eunuch ; and more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a 
traitor. 

Staf. gross and miserable ignorance ! 



"King Henry VI" — Part II 259 

Cade. Nay, answer, if you can ; the Frenchmen are our enemies ; go 
to, then, I ask but this : can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy 
be a good counsellor, or no ? 

All. No, no ; and therefore we'll have his head. 

W. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, 
Assail them with the army of the king. 

Staf. Herald, away ; and, throughout every town, 
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade, 
That those which fly before the battle ends, 
May, even in their wives' and children's sight, 
Be hang'd up for example at their doors, — 
All you that be the king's friends, follow me. 

{Exeunt the two Staffoeds and Forces. 

Cade. And you, that love the commons, follow me. — 
Now show yourselves men; His for liberty. 1 
We will not leave one lord, one gentleman ; 
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, 
For they are thrifty, honest men, and such 
As would (but that they dare not) take our parts. 

Dick. They are all in order, and march toward us. 

Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most out of order. 
Come ; march forward. [Exeunt. 

The above is the first use I find of the word " liberty " by 
Shakespeare in the form of an appeal for human rights ; but, 
inasmuch as he puts the exclamation into the mouth of a man 
who executes people for reading and writing, the mention is 
obviously intended to degrade the word and to represent 
only general licentiousness and license. Notorious history, 
however, required him to represent the People's leader brave 
to the extreme. 

Scene 3. — Another part of Blaclcheath. 
Alarums. The two Parties enter, and fight, and doth the Staffoeds are 

slain. 

Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford ? 

Diok. Here, sir. 

Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst 
thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house: therefore, 
thus will I reward thee, — The Lent shall be as long again as it is ; and 
thou shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred years, lacking one. 

1 This use of the word liberty does not count against our theory, for 
as put by Shakespeare into the mouth of Cade it has no significance except 
derision. See " Julius Caesar," chapter xxxv. 



260 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Dick. I desire no more. 

Cade. And, to speak the truth, thou deservest no less. This monu- 
ment of the victory will I bear ['putting on Staefoed's armour], and the 
bodies shall be dragged at my horses' heels, till I do come to London, 
where we will have the mayor's sword borne before ns. 

Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails, and let 
out the prisoners. 

Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come; let's march toward Lon- 
don. [Exeunt. 
Scene 4. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
Enter a Messenger. 

K. Hen. How now ! what news? why com'st thou in such haste? 

Mess. The rebels are in Southwark ; Fly, my* lord ! 
Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer, 
Descended from the duke of Clarence house; 
And calls your grace usurper, openly, 
And vows to crown himself in Westminster. 
His army is a ragged multitude 
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless : 
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death 
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed ; 
All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen 
They call — false caterpillars, and intend their death. 
Enter another Messenger. 

2 Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge ; the citizens 
Fly and forsake their houses ; 
The rascal people, thirsting after prey, 
Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear 
To spoil the city and your royal court. 

Scene 6. — The Same. Cannon-street. 
Enter Jack Cade, and his Followers. He strikes his staff on London- 
stone. 
Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon 
London-stone, I charge and command, that, of the city's cost, the . . . 
conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And 
now, henceforward, it shall be treason for any that calls me other than — 
lord Mortimer. 

Enter a Soldier, running. 
Sold. Jack Cade ! Jack Cade ! 

Cade. Knock him down there. [They kill him. 

Smith. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call you Jack Cade more ; I 
think, he hath a very fair warning. 

Dick. My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield. 



"King Henry VH— Part II. 261 

Cade. Come then, let's go fight with them; But, first, go and set 
London Bridge on fire ; and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. 
Come, let's away. {Exeunt. 

Scene 7. — The Same. Smithfield. 
Alarum. Enter, on one side, Cade and his Company ; on the other, Citi- 
zens, and the King's Forces, headed oy Matthew Gottgh. They fight : 

the Citizens are routed, and Matthew Gottgh is slain. 

Cade. So, sirs : — Now, go some and pull down the Savoy ; others to 
the inns of court; down with them all. 

Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship. 

Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word. 

Dick. Only, that the laws of England may come out of your mouth. 

John. Mass, 'twill be sore law then ; for he was thrust in the mouth 
with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet. [Aside. 

Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking law ; for his breath stinks with 
eating toasted cheese. [Aside. 

Cade. I have thought upon it, it shall be so. Away, burn all the 
records of the realm; my mouth shall be the parliament of England. 

John. Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his teeth be 
pulled out. [Aside. 

Cade. And henceforward all things shall be in common. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here's the lord Say, which sold the 
towns in France, he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens, and one 
shilling to the pound, the last subsidy. 

Enter Geoege Bevis, with the Lord Say. 

Cade. "Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times,— Ah, thou say, thou 
serge, nay, thou buckram lord ! now art thou within point blank of our 
jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty, for giving up 
of Normandy nnto Monsieur Basimecn, the dauphin of France? Be it 
known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of lord Mortimer, 
that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou 
art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erect- 
ing a grammar-school : and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other 
books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; 
and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a paper- 
mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that 
nsu ally talk of a noun, and a verb, and such abominable words as no 
Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace 
to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer; 
moreover, thou hast put them in prison; and because they could not read, 
thou hast hanged them ; when, indeed, only for that cause they have 
been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not ? 

Say. What of that ? 



262 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when 
honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets. 

Dick. And work in their shirt too ; as myself, for example, that am a 
butcher. 

Say. You men of Kent, — 

Dick. What say you of Kent ? 

Say. Nothing but this : 'tis bona terra, mala gens. 

Cade. Away with him ! away with him ! he speaks Latin. 

Sat. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. 

Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, 
You cannot but forbear to murder me. 
This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings 
For your behoof — 

Cade. Tut ! when struck'st thou one blow in the field ? 

Say. Great men have reaching hands : oft have I struck 
Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. 

Geo. monstrous coward! what, to come behind folks? 

Say. These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. 

Cade. Give him a box o' the ear, and that will make them red again. 

Say. Long sitting, to determine poor men's causes, 
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. 

Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the pap of hatchet. 

Dick. "Why dost thou quiver, man? 

Say. The palsy and not fear provoketh me. 

Cade. Nay, he nods at us; as who should say, I'll be even with you. 
I'll see if his head stand steadier on a pole, or no. Take him away and 
behead him. 

Say. Tell me, wherein have I offended most ? 

Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words ; but I'll bridle it ; he 
shall die, 'an it be but for pleading so well for his life. — Away with him I 
he has a familiar under his tongue : he speaks not o' God's name. Go, 
take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently ; and then break 
into his son-in-law's house, sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, 
and bring them both upon two poles hither. 

All. It shall be done. 

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye. The proudest peer 
in this realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders, unless he pay me 
tribute : there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her 
maidenhead, ere they have it. Men shall hold of me in capite : and we 
charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish, or 
tongue can tell. 

Let me here remark that I can see no reason why Shake- 



"King Henry VI"— Part II. 263 

speare should be denied the learned languages, since Jack Cade 
can quote Latin. 

Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up commodi- 
ties upon our bills ? 

Cade. Marry, presently. 
All. O, brave! 

Re-enter Rebels with the heads of Lord Say and his Son-in-law. 
Cade. But is not this braver ? — Let them kiss one another, for they 
loved well when they were alive. [Jowl them together.'] Now part them 
again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. 
Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night ; for, with these borne be- 
fore us, instead of maces, will we ride through the streets; and at every 
corner have them kiss. — Away ! [Exeunt. 

Scene 8. — Southward. 
Alarum. Enter Cade, and all his Rdbblement. 
Cade. Up Fish-street! down Saint Magnus' corner! kill and knock 
down! throw them into Thames! — [A Parley sounded, then a Retreat.] 
What noise is this I hear ? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or par- 
ley, when I command them kill ? 

Enter Buckingham, and Old Oliffoed, with Forces. 

Buck. Ay, here they be that dare, and will disturb thee : 
Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king 
Unto the commons whom thou hast misled: 
And here pronounce free pardon to them all 
That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. 

Clif. What say ye, countrymen ? will ye repent 
And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis oft'er'd you, 
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths ? 
Who loves the king, and will embrace his pardon, 
Fling up his cap, and say — God save his majesty ! 
Who hateth him, and honours not his father, 
Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake, 
Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by. 

All. God save the king! God save the king! 

Cade. What, Buckingham, and Clifford, are ye so brave? — And you, 
base peasants, do you believe him ? will you needs be hanged with your 
pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through 
London Gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in South wark? 
I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recov- 
ered your ancient freedom; but you are all recreants, and dastards; and 
delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with 
burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daugh- 



264 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

ters before your faces ; for me — I will make shift for one ; and so — God's 
curse light upon you all. 

All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade. 

Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth, 
That thus you do exclaim — you'll go with him ? 
"Will he conduct you through the heart of France, 
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes ? 
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to ; 
Nor knows he how to live, hut hy the spoil, 
Unless hy robhing of your friends, and us. 
"Wer't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, 
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, 
Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you? 
Methinks already, in this civil broil, 
I see them lording it in London streets, 
Crying Villageois ! unto all they meet. 
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry 
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. 
To France, to France, and get what you have lost ; 
Spare England, for it is your native coast ; 
Henry hath money, you are strong and manly; 
God on our side, doubt not of victory. 

All. A Clifford! a Clifford! we'll follow the king, and Clifford. 

Cade. "Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude? 
the name of Henry the fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and 
makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads together, to 
surprise me ; my sword make way for me, for here is no staying. In de- 
spite of the devils and hell, have through the very midst of you! and 
heavens and honour be witness, that no want of resolution in me, but only 
my followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake to my 
heels. [Exit. 

Buck. What, is he fled ? go, some, and follow him ; 
And he that brings his head unto the king 

Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. [Exeunt some of them. 

Follow me, soldiers ; we'll devise a mean 
To reconcile you all unto the king. [Exeunt. 

Scene 10. — Kent. Men's Garden. 
Enter Cade. 

Cade. Fy on ambition ! fy on myself, that have a sword, and yet am 
ready to famish ! These five days have I hid me in these woods ; and 
durst not peep out, for all the country is lay'd for me ; but now am I so 
hungry, that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I 
could stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick wall have I climbed into this 
garden, to see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while, which is 



"King Henry VI" — Part II. 265 

not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And, I think, this 
word sallet was born to do me good ; for, many a time, but for a sallet, 
my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill ; and, many a time, when 
I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath serv'd me instead of a 
quart pot to drink in. And now the one word sallet must serve me to 
feed on. 

Enter Iden, with Servants. 

Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for en- 
tering his fee-simple without leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and 
get a thousand crowns of the king for carrying my head to him ; but I'll 
make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin, 
ere thou and I part. 

Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, 
I know thee not ; Why then should I betray thee ? 
Is't not enough to break into my garden, 
And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, 
Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, 
But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ? 

Cade. Brave thee ? ay, by the best blood that ever was broached, and 
beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days: 
yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as 
a door nail, I pray God, I may never eat grass more. 

Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said while England stands, 
That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. 
Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes to mine, 
See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. 
Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser ; 
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ; 
Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon ; 
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; 
And if my arm be heaved in the air, 
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. 
As for more words, whose greatness answers words, 
Let this my sword report what speech forbears. 

Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. 
Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burley-boned clown in 
chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees 
thou mayest be turned to hobnails. [They fight. Cade falls.'] 0, I am 
slain! famine, and no other, hath slain me; let ten thousand devils come 
against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them 
all. Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do 
dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. 

Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? 
Sword, I will hallow thee for tbis thy deed. 



266 Shakespeare, from an American Point of Viezu. 

Cade. Iden, farewell ; and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from 
me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards ; 
for I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. 

[Dies. 

Iden. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge. 
Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that dare thee ! 
And as I thrust thy body with my sword, 
So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. 
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels, 
Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, 
And there cut off thy most ungracious head ; 
Which I will bear in triumph to the king, 
Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. 

[Exit, dragging out the body. 

This closes the cruel caricature and defamation of a leader 
of the stamp of William Tell, Rienzi, or Marco Bozzaris, and 
who, but for Shakespeare, would have been the theme of many 
a lofty lyre, perhaps the subject for ages of the prayer and 
song of the nation whose good fortune it had been to profit by 
his sacrifices. Truly English worship of social superiority is 
almost inexplicable when contrasted with the decorous subjec- 
tion to lawful authority to be found in other lands ; but, with 
such examples as this play before us, we know where to trace 
the infatuation to its source. And it is melancholy to reflect 
that a transcendent genius, who could have done so much to 
lift popular thought, should always have endeavored to de- 
grade it. Shakespeare might have condemned Cade and his 
cause in reasonable terms and been to some extent forgiven, 
but the spontaneous and malignant execration which he lav- 
ishes upon the dead patriot, in the interest of the nobles, is 
simply intolerable. Indeed, it would be a positive relief to us 
to be able to attribute the political tendencies of Shakespeare's 
text to Sir Francis Bacon, who was educated to despise the 
people. The charm which attends our poet's genius still pre- 
vails, but the spell has lost a great portion of its force, and 
can no longer prevent the condemnation of the poet's princi- 
ples by the English-speaking and liberty-loving people of 
America. 



'King Henry VI?— Part III. 267 



CHAPTEK XXVIII. 

PART ni. 

The Third Part of "Henry VI" affords us fewer illustra- 
tions for our theme than any of the previous plays. The first 
incident which strikes our attention appears in the second 
scene of Act I, and bears upon the question of Shakespeare's 
legai acquirements ; inasmuch as it exhibits a very correct 
idea, as far as it goes, of the legal crime of " perjury," as dis- 
tinguished from mere false swearing. 

Edwakd. But for a kingdom any oath may be broken. 

Eichaed. An oath is of no moment, being not took 
Before a true and lawful magistrate 
That hath authority over him that swears. 

The above legal illustration seems to have escaped the ob- 
servation of Lord Campbell, though it is a peculiar and exact 
specimen of technical correctness. 

Yoke:. Five men to twenty ! though the odds be great 
I doubt not, nncle, of our victory. 
Many a battle have I won in France, 
When as the enemy hath been ten to one. Act I, Scene 2. 

Clif. The common people swarm Mice summer flies : 
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun. Act II, Scene 6. 

Enter King Heney {disguised as a churchman), with a prayer-book* 

K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, 
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ; 
Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, 
Thy balm washed off, wherewith thou wast anointed. 



268 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old. 

Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 

And as the air blows it to me again, 

Obeying with my wifld when I do blow, 

And yielding to another when it blows, 

Commanded always by the greater gust ; 

Such is the lightness of you common men. Act III, Scene 1. 

Q. Mae. While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York, 
Usurps the regal title and the seat 
Of England's true anointed lawful king. Act III, Scene 3. 

K. Edw. Now march we hence ; discharge the common sort 
With pay and thanks. Act V, Scene 5, 

Throughout this play crime is heaped on crime by the 
nobles of all parties with just the same want of scruple that 
the politicians in America show against one another by false 
votes ; but Shakespeare presides over the shocking turpitude 
of his period with seldom a word of censure and rarely the 
atonement of a moral, as if murder, perjury, and perfidy of 
every stamp were the unquestioned rights of noble birth. It 
may be said he does the world service by showing these no- 
bles in their true colors, but it must be observed that one who 
is commissioned with the capacity to write history should 
boldly approve good deeds and condemn bad ones, in order to 
be worthy of his task. Shakespeare, on the contrary, deals 
with the villainies of kings and nobles as if they were among 
the ordinary privileges of birth, and as if crime were the in- 
heritance only of the poor. Even Clarence, who was one of 
the murderers of Prince Edward, at Tewkesbury, is made to 
enlist our sympathy by dying almost like a martyr and a 
saint. 

THE LEGAL ACQUIREMENTS OF SHAKESPEARE AS SHOWN IN THE 
HISTORIES OF THE HENRIES. 

At the close of my review of " Henry IV," Part II, I briefly 
stated, that "the legalisms exhibited in Shakespeare's behalf, 
in the course of it, by Lord Chief Justice Campbell, did not 
call for any attention at my hands." Upon further reflection, 
however, it seems that, inasmuch as I have heretofore printed, 
almost in extenso, all of Lord Campbell's illustrations on this 



"King Henry VI"— Part III. 269 

subject, I may as well perfect that portion of my task by 
giving, even to the end, the substance of everything his lord- 
ship has to say in that regard ; for, after all, the question of 
the respective legal acquirements of Bacon and of Shake- 
speare runs a line through the very center of the main in- 
quiry, the course of which is almost as decisive in demonstrat- 
ing the debated point of authorship as the question of the 
respective religious creeds of the two persons named. 

In dealing with the Second Part of " Henry IT," Lord 
Campbell says: "Arguments have been drawn from this 
drama against Shakespeare's supposed great legal acquire- 
ments. It has been objected to the very amusing interview, 
in Act I, Scene 2, between Falstaff and the Lord Chief Jus- 
tice, that, if Shakespeare had been much of a lawyer, he would 
have known that this great magistrate could not examine of- 
fenders in the manner supposed, and could only take notice 
of offenses when they were regularly prosecuted before him 
in the Court of King's Bench or at the assizes. But, although 
such is the practice in our days, so recently as the beginning 
of the eighteenth century that illustrious judge, Lord Chief 
Justice Holt, acted as a police magistrate, quelling riots, tak- 
ing depositions against parties accused, and, where a prima 
facie case was made out against them, committing them for 
trial. Lord Chief Justice Coke actually assisted in taking the 
Earl and Countess of Somerset into custody when charged 
with the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, and examined not 
less than three hundred witnesses against them." 

With all due respect to Lord Campbell, I can not but con- 
sider that he has made a disingenuous use of these two illus- 
trations. The first alludes to a case of quasi rebellion which, 
required the personal energy of the highest magistrate in the 
kingdom to suppress ; and the second was a crime perpetrated 
by parties so closely related to the crown that it partook 
largely of the character of a state affair. Both Lords Chief 
Justices Holt and Coke, moreover, decorously exercised their 
jurisdiction in these cases at chambers. I repeat, therefore, 
that it is at least disingenuous on the part of Lord Chief Jus- 
tice Campbell to quote these instances as fair offsets to the 
unseemly tavern and chance street interviews of Chief Justice 



270 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Gascoigne with Falstaff, as given in the First Part of " Henry 
IV." Lord Campbell has one or two other observations on 
phrases in the text of " Henry IV," Part II, evincing legal 
comprehension on the part of Shakespeare, but, as his lord- 
ship puts them very lightly and does not press them, they 
hardly require any notice at my hands. 

Lord Campbell finds no evidence of Shakespeare's legal 
acquirements in "Henry V" worthy of his notics ; or in 
" Henry VI," Part I ; so he passes on to " Henry VI," Part 
II, where he opens his proofs of our poet's legal proficiency 
by burlesque speeches unworthily put into the mouth of Jack 
Cade and his associates. His lordship, however, might have 
found in the First Part (Act II, Scene 5) a similar proof of 
profound legal erudition to that passed over by him in " Henry 
V" (where the Archbishop of Canterbury demonstrates the 
origin and character of the Salique law of France), and might 
also have found a very lawyer-like genealogical recital (by 
York) in Act II, Scene 2, of the Second Part of " King Henry 
VI." ISTow, the fact that these three purely legal perfor- 
mances (showing, as they do not, merely the proficiency of an 
attorney's clerk, but the learning of a thoroughly accom- 
plished barrister) are studiously overlooked by Lord Chief 
Justice Campbell, in his evidences of " Shakespeare's Legal 
Acquirements," while relying for his proofs to that effect upon 
the poet's mere mention of such words as " seal," " inden- 
ture," " enfeoffment," etc., warrants us in the conclusion that 
his lordship had discovered that these digests of title and 
genealogical exploits proved too much for the rest of his ar- 
gument. His lordship, however, overlooking this suggestive 
example (suggestive, in fact, that Shakespeare ordered his law 
when he required any from other and more competent hands), 
finds a world of point in the comic extravagances which our 
poet has put into the speeches of Jack Cade and his band. 
"In these speeches," says Lord Campbell, " we find a famili- 
arity with the law and its proceedings which strongly indi- 
cates that the author must have had some professional practice 
or education as a lawyer." The example which his lordship 
gives to support this opinion is to be found in the second 
scene of Act IV, and, in order to show how small a stock of 



"King Henry VI."— Part III. 271 

logic will serve at times, even for a lord chief justice, I here 
give Lord Campbell's quotation and remarks : 

" Dick. The first thing we do, lefs Mil all the lawyers. 

" Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that 
the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? — that parch- 
ment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man ? Some say the bee stings ; 
but I say 'tis the bee's wax, for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was 
never mine own man since. 

" The Clerk of Chatham is then brought in, who could 
1 make obligations and write court hand,' and who, instead 
of 6 making his mark like an honest, plain-dealing man,' had 
been ' so well brought up that he could write his name.' 
Therefore he was sentenced to be hanged with his pen and 
ink-horn about his neck. 

" Surely " (says Lord Campbell) " Shakespeare must have 
been employed to write deeds on parchment in court hand, 
and to apply the wax to them in the form of seals ; one does 
not understand how he should, on any other theory of his 
bringing up, have been acquainted with these details. 

"Again" (says his lordship) "'the indictment on which 
Lord Say was arraigned, in Act IV, Scene 7, seems drawn by 
no inexperienced hand : 

" ' Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the 
realm in erecting a grammar-school ; and whereas, before, our 
forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, 
thou hast caused printing to be used ; and, contrary to the 
king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It 
will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that 
usually talk of a noun and a verb, and such abominable words 
as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed 
justices of peace, to call poor men before them about matters 
they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them 
in prison ; and because they could not read, thou hast hanged 
them, when indeed only for that cause they have been most 
worthy to live.' 

" How acquired I know not, but it is quite certain " (de- 
clares Lord Campbell) " that the drawer of this indictment 
must have had some acquaintance with ' The Crown Circuit 



272 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Companion,' and must have had a full and accurate knowl- 
edge of that rather obscure and intricate subject, ' Felony 
and Benefit of Clergy.' 

" Cade's proclamation, which follows, deals with still more 
recondite heads of jurisprudence. Announcing his policy 
when he should mount the throne, he says, 'The proudest 
peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders unless 
he pay me tribute ; there shall not a maid be married but she 
shall. . , . Men shall hold of me in capite / and we charge 
and command that their wives be 2^ free as heart can wish, or 
tongue can tell? 

" He thus declares a great forthcoming change in the 
tenure of land and in the liability of taxation ; he is to have 
a poll-tax like that which had raised the rebellion; but, in- 
stead of coming down to the daughters of blacksmiths who 
had reached the age of fifteen, it was to be confined to the 
nobility. Then he is to legislate on the mercheta mulierum. 

" He proceeds to announce his intention to abolish tenure 
in free socage, and that all men should hold of him, in capite, 
concluding with a licentious jest that, although his subjects 
should no longer hold in free socage, c their wives should be 
as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell.' Strange to say " 
(continues his lordship), " this phrase, or one almost identically 
the same, c as free as tongue can speak, or heart can think,' is 
feudal, and was known to the ancient law of England." 

JSTow, in relation to this latter instance as presented by 
his lordship, whom we can hardly help thinking is temporarily 
lapsing into an infantile enjoyment of nursery rhymes, as one 
would say, " As long as grass grows and water runs " — the 
suggestion which irresistibly presents itself is that Shake- 
speare, if he really had been bred to the law, would have 
presented the legal phrase above correctly. Bacon certainly 
would have done so ; unless we are to believe it was purposely 
perverted for a comic object. 



'Richard III" 273 



The date of the production of this stirring drama is set 
down by Furnival as in 1594, and its publication in 1597. 
The authorities used in its construction were " The History 
of Richard III," by Sir Thomas More, and its continuation by 
Holinshed. The character of Richard is the most bustling 
and vigorous of any in the Shakespearean dramas ; and so 
masterly is the sketch of the hero that, notwithstanding his 
enormous crimes, he ingratiates himself with every audience 
by his prodigious intellect and marvelous courage. In evi- 
dence of the natural obstacles which stood in the way of his 
violent acquisition of the throne, I quote the following por- 
trait of him by Sir Thomas More, in the work referred to : 

"Richard, the third son (of Richard, Duke of York), was, 
in wit and courage, equal with either of them — his brothers 
Edward the Fourth, and George, Duke of Clarence. In body 
and prowess he was far under them both ; little of stature, ill- 
featured of limbs, crook-backed, his left shoulder much higher 
than his right, hard-favored of visage, and such as is in states 
called warlie, in other men otherwise ; he was malicious, 
wrathful, envious, and from afore his birth ever froward. It 
is for truth reported that the Duchess, his mother, had so 
much ado in her travail. . . . None evil captain was he in the 
way of war, as to which his disposition was more metely than 
for peace. Sundry victories had he, and sometime overthrows, 
but never in default as for his own person of hardiness or pol- 
itic order. . . . He was close and secret, a deep dissembler, 
lowly of countenance, arrogant of heart, outwardly compan- 
ionable where he inwardly hated, not letting to kiss whom he 
thought to kill ; dispiteous and cruel, not for evil will alway, 
but often for ambition, and either for the surety or increase 
of his estate. Friend and foe was much what indifferent ; 
where his advantage grew, he spared no man's death whose 
life withstood his purpose." 

Shakespeare has followed the chronicle with great minute- 
ness, which shows how faithfully he can adhere to the truth 
when so disposed. On the night before the battle of Bos worth 
Field, says the old historian : 
18 



274 Shakespeare, front an American Point of View, 

" The fame went that he had a dreadful and terrible dream ; 
for it seemed to him, being asleep, that he did see divers im- 
ages like terrible devils, which pulled and haled him, not suf- 
fering him to take any quiet or rest. The which strange 
vision not so suddenly strake his heart with a sudden fear, 
but it stuffed his head and troubled his mind with many busy 
and dreadful imaginations. . . . And less that it might be 
suspected that he was abashed for fear of his enemies, and for 
that cause looked so piteously, he recited and declared to his 
familiar friends in the morning his wonderful vision and fear- 
ful dream. . . . When the loss of the battle was imminent 
and apparent, they brought to him a swift and a light horse, 
to convey him away ; but, disdaining flight, and inflamed with 
ire, and vexed with outrageous malice, he put his spurs to his 
horse and rode out of the side of the range of his battle, leav- 
ing the vanguard fighting, and, like a hungry lion, ran with 
spear in rest towards him. The Earl of Richmond perceived 
well the King coming furiously toward him, and because the 
whole hope of his wealth and purpose was to be determined 
by battle, he gladly proffered to encounter with him, body to 
body and man to man. King Richard set on so sharply at 
the first brunt that he overthrew the Earl's standard, and slew 
Sir William Brandon, his standard-bearer, and matched hand 
to hand with Sir John Cheinie, a man of great force and 
strength, which would have resisted him, but the said John 
was by him manfully overthrown. And so, he making open 
passage by dint of sword as he went forward, the Earl of Rich- 
mond withstood his violence, and kept him at the sword's 
point, without advantage, longer than his companions either 
thought or judged, which being almost in despair of victory 
were suddenly recomforted by Sir William Stanley, which 
came to succors with three thousand tall men, at which very 
instant King Richard's men were driven back, and fled, and 
he himself, manfully fighting in the middle of his enemies, 
was slain, and brought to his death as he worthily had de- 
served." 

Dowden, in treating of the character of this drama, says: 
" The demoniac intensity which distinguishes the play pro- 
ceeds from the character of Richard, as from its source and 



"Richard III? 275 

center. . . . Richard rather occupies the imagination by au- 
dacity and force than insinuates himself through some subtle 
solvent, some magic and mystery of art. His character does 
not grow upon us ; from the first it is complete. . . . Cole- 
ridge has said of Richard, that pride of intellect is his charac- 
teristic. This is true; but his dominant characteristic is not 
intellectual — it is rather a demoniac energy of will. The 
same cause which produces tempest and shipwreck produces 
Richard ; he is a fierce, elemental power raging through the 
world." x 

As it is no part of my task to proceed any farther upon 
this line ot observation, I will therefore direct myself at once 
to such portions of the text as illustrate those tendencies of 
the poet's mind which we have made the subject of our par- 
ticular analysis. 

At the opening of the second act, while Edward is still 
king, though grievously sick, Lord Stanley comes hastily be- 
fore him, and implores pardon for one of his servants, who 
had slain u a riotous nobleman." Edward, however, is suffer- 
ing under remorse for having ordered Clarence's death, and 
rebukes the impetuous suitor by reminding him that no one 
attempted to intercept his purpose when he had hastily sen- 
tenced his poor brother : 

"Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death? 
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? 

Not a man of you 
Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
But, when your carters, or your waiting vassals, 
Have done a drunken slaughter and defaced 
The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon ! " 

In Act III, Scene 2, we find the following Catholic symp- 
toms in our poet : 

Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain ? 

Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest ; 
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. 

1 Dowden's " Shakespeare's Mind and Art," p. 182. 



276 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Hastings. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, 

The men you talk of came into my mind. 
Buck. Now, by the holy Mother of our Lord! — 



Enter, from the castle, Catesby. 
Now, Catesby ! what says your lord to my request? 
Oate. He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord, 

To visit him to-morrow, or next day : 
He is within, with two right reverend fathers, 
Divinely bent to meditation : 
And in no worldly suit would he be moved, 
To draw him from his holy exercise. 

Act III, Scene 7. 

The following thus alludes to the ruthless murder of the 
two young princes in the Tower: 

Eliz. Ah, my poor princes ! ah, my tender babes! 

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets ! 

If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, 

And be not fix 1 d in doom perpetual, 

Hover about me with your airy wings, 

And hear your mother's lamentation ! 
Q. Mae. Hover about her ; say, that right for right 

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. 

This instance, which was given in an earlier chapter, 
makes a distinct recognition of the doctrine of purgatory. 

Again, this Catholic doctrine is beautifully expressed by 
Buckingham (when on the way to execution) in remorseful 
invocation to the souls of those whom he had helped Richard 
murder : 

"Hastings and Edward's children, Eivers, Grey, 
Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
Yaughan, and all that have miscarried 
By underhand corrupted foul injustice : 
If that your moody discontented souls 
JDo through the clouds behold this present hour, 
Even for revenge mock my destruction I 

Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame ; 
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame." 



"Richard III? 277 

Act IY, Scene 4. 
K. Eioh. A flourish, trumpets! — strike alarum, drams! 
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
Kail on the Lord's anointed ! Strike, I say ! 



Act Y, Scene 2. 
Enter Kiohmond and Forces. 
Eioh. Then in God's name march : 

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures Icings ! 

Tent Scene. — BicharoVs Dream. 
The Ghost of Kma Heney the Sixth rises. 
Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed tody 

By thee was punched full of deadly holes. 

Scene III. — Bosworth Field. 
K. Kioh. Why, our battalia trebles that account : 

Besides, the hinges name is a tower of strength, 
Which they upon the adverse faction want. 

These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives ; 
Who, hut for dreaming on this fond exploit, 
For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves. 

Bemember whom you are to cope withal ; 
A sort of vagabonds, rascals and runaways, 
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants. 

I return now to the first act, Scene 2, for a final illustra- 
tion from this play. The Lady Anne, attended by mourners 
and a guard, is accompanying the body of King Henry YI to 
Chertsey monastery, for interment : 

Enter Glosteb. 
Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it down. 

Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, 

To stop devoted charitable deeds ? 
<xlo. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saint Paul, 

I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. 
1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. 

[He lowers his spear at Gloster's breast. 
•Glo. Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I command : 

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 



278 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, 
And spnrn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. 

Such is the worship paid to wealth in England, down even 
to the present day, that the most current expression of con- 
tempt is to brand a man with the epithet of beggar ! as used 
in the sense of poverty — " Get out, you beggar I " 

The stock-in-trade of this play consists of murders, con- 
spiracies, and perjuries, and, amid this sickening sea of crime, 
the female characters figure to such singular disadvantage as 
to give another to the many proofs that Shakespeare did not 
have a very high estimate of women. 

The play which follows " Richard III," and closes the Shake- 
spearean dramatic histories, is that of " Henry Till," which 
leaves the reign of Richmond, or Henry VII, unrepresented 
in the historical series. The Baconians seek to make a great 
point of this hiatus, by producing the fact that Bacon wrote a 
special prose history of the reign of Henry VII, over his own 
signature, and that, having thus met all the historical necessi- 
ties of the subject in prose, his tired muse did not feel called 
upon to repeat the task, under the disadvantages of dramatic 
poetry. It strikes me, however, that it is much more reason- 
able to attribute Shakespeare's neglect of Henry VII for the 
purposes of a play to the utter absence of any dramatic inci- 
dent in a reign which was devoted only to mere social progress 
and " the establishment of law and order." 



'King Henry VIII" 2 79 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



The greatest of all the controversies which have raged 
among the commentators, both German and English, upon 
the life, genius, and writings of William Shakespeare, is that 
concerning the date of our poet's production of the play of 
" Henry Till." And the object of the dispute is by no means 
unworthy of the consequence which has been given to it, for 
its date defines, to a great extent, the motives which induced 
Shakespeare to prostitute his pen to the laudation of a mon- 
ster whose very name it is the common duty of mankind to 
execrate. Moreover, the play, as it stands, bears sharply upon 
the question of Shakespeare's religious faith, and, particularly 
in that expression in Cranmer's christening speech (upon 
which Knight so much relies), when the Archbishop predicts 
that during the reign of Elizabeth — which was a Protestant 

reign — 

" God shall be truly known." 

Be it observed at this point, however, that the whole of 
this speech of Cranmer's is generally regarded as spurious by 
the English commentators, and is attributed by most of them 
to Ben Jonson, who is supposed to have " written it in," sub- 
sequent to its production, as a compliment to King James, 
who ascended the throne at the death of Elizabeth, in 
March, 1603. 1 Indeed, there is now scarcely a doubt of 

1 Dr. Reichensperger, clerical member of the German Parliament, has 
recently issued a work, in which he says that " Cranmer's prediction of 



280 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

this. Among those who deny the authenticity of Cranmer's 
speech, but who believe that the play was written by Shake- 
speare as early as 1602, are Dr. Johnson, Theobald, Steevens, 
Malone, Collier, and Halliwell, with only Knight and Hunter, 
among the English critics, to the contrary. " All of the Ger- 
man commentators, however," says Elze, " with the exception 
of Schlegel and Kreyssig, are in favor of the year 1612." 
Speddon says that Shakespeare planned " Henry YIII," "but 
wrote less than half of it (1,116 lines), Fletcher writing the 
rest (1,761 lines)." 2 

The argument for the production of "Henry YIII" in 
1612 has its main support in two private letters (written, one 
on June 30, and the other on July 6, 1613, by a Mr. Thomas 
Lorkin and Sir Henry Wotton, respectively), describing the 
burning of the Globe Theatre, of London, on the 29th of June 
previous. During the performance of " King Henry YIII," 
says Lorkin, the house was set on fire by the discharge of 
chambers (small cannon) on the entrance of the King to 
Wolsey's palace — the wadding of the said chambers having 
lodged in the thatch of the roof. Sir Henry Wotton's let- 
ter, in alluding to the same incident, speaks of the piece 
which was being performed at the time of the fire as a new 
play, called " All is True, representing some Principal Pieces 
of the reign of Henry YIII." Now, it is very easy to con- 
ceive that Sir Henry Wotton might have thought the piece 
a new one without being correct; or that he may never 
before have been at a theatre, and consequently knew but 
little of such matters; but it is not easy to conceive that 
Shakespeare should have so closely interwoven his paean to 

the glories of Elizabeth's reign, at the end of 'King Henry YIII,' is an 
interpolation of the low court parasite, Ben Jonson." 

The April number of the "Catholic Progress," published in London, 
contains a paper by " J. B. M.," which says, in referring to "Henry 
VIII": "Clap-trap passages about the 'virgin queen,' for instance, may 
possibly not be Shakespeare's own writing. If they are, they are of 
course drawbacks. No real Catholic would flatter a monster whose 
savage cruelties were endeavoring to eradicate from her subjects the Cath- 
olic faith." To this, I may add, that Henry burnt Protestants as well as 
Catholics when he took the notion. 

9 Gervinus, p. xx of "Introduction." 



"King Henry VII 7." 281 

the infant Elizabeth with the panegyric on King James, when 
it was generally known (and by no one better than by Shake- 
speare) that James had by no means a good opinion of his 
predecessor. 3 

This, to my mind, indicates the Cranmer christening 
speech to be an interpolation on the text of Shakespeare, and 
also favors the idea that Shakespeare wrote the play in 1602, 
to please the Queen, and to soften the character of Henry 
VIII, her father. • 

"With these preliminary observations, I will pass to the 
illustrations of the play. The first that arrests our attention 
is the one in which Buckingham (after having been condemned 
in a most unfair trial by notoriously prejudiced judges, and by 
testimony so obviously false, that it attracted the attention of 
Queen Katharine, and elicited her womanly protest) is made 
by Shakespeare to acquit and bless the royal brute who would 
neither hearken to justice nor to her: 

Act II, Scene 1. 

" Commend me to his grace ; 
And if he speak of Buckingham, pray tell him, 
You met him half in heaven ; my vows and prayers 
Yet are the Icing's ; and till my soul forsake, 
Shall cry for blessings on him ; may he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
Ever beloved and loving, may his rule be ! 
And, when old Time shall lead him to his end, 
Goodness and he fill up one monument! 



3 It is worthy of notice that, among the many tributes to the virtues of 
Queen Elizabeth which immediately followed her death, none came from 
Shakespeare. This neglect appeared so singular that Ohettle publicly 
rebuked him for it, under the term of Melicert, in the lines: 

"Nor doth the silver-tongued Melicert 
Drop from his honied muse one sable tear, 
To mourn her death that graced his desert, 
And to his laies open'd her royal eare. 
Shepherd, remember our Elizabeth, 
And sing her rape done by that Tarquin, Death." 

"Mourning Garment," p. 160 ; Z. Holmes, p. 41. 



282 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

I had my trial. 
And, must needs say, a noble one ; 4 which makes me 
A little happier than my wretched father : 
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes. — Both 
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved most; 
A most unnatural and faithless service ! 

At this point one of the Duke of Buckingham's retainers, 
a surveyor, testifies against him, but with such evident preju- 
dice and malice that the Queen again interposes : 

Enter a Surveyor. 

Q. Kath. If I know ycu well, 

You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office 
On the complaint o' the tenants. Take good heed 
You charge not in your spleen a noble person, 
And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed! 
Act II, Scene 2. 

Suffolk. How is the king employ'd? 

Cham. I left him private, 

Full of sad thoughts and troubles. 

Noefolk. What's the cause? 

Cham. It seems the marriage with his brother's wife 
Has crept too near his conscience. 

Suffolk. No, his conscience 

Has crept too near another lady. 

Nobfolk opens a folding-door. The King is discovered sitting and 



Suffolk. How sad he looks ! sure he is much afflicted. 

K. Hen. Who is there ? ha ? 

Noefolk. 'Pray God, he be not angry. 

4 The character of the witnesses in this " noble trial " was thus pre- 
figured by the conscientious Queen Katharine to the conscienceless and 
bloody boar, King Henry : 

Act I, Scene 2. 
Q. Kath. I am sorry that the duke of Buckingham 

Is run in your displeasure. 
K. Hen. It grieves many. 

Wolsey. To your high person 

His will is most malignant. 
Q. Kath. My learned lord cardinal, i 

Deliver all with charity. 



"King Henry VI I H 285 

K. Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare you thrust yourselves 

Into my private meditations ? 

Who am I? ha! 
Noefolk. A gracious king, that 'pardons all offences 

Malice ne'er meant : our breach of duty, this way 

Is business of estate ; in which, we come 

To know your royal pleasure. 
K. Hen. You are too bold, 

Go to ; I'll make ye know your times of business : 

Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha? — 

Act II, Scene 2. 
Caedinal Campeius (to Kino Heney). 
Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves, 
You are so noble. 

Act II, Scene 3. 
Anne Bullen, Lady in Waiting, and an old Lady of the Court. Enter 
Loed Chamberlain. 
Loed 0. (observing Anne Bullen, the mother of the future Elizabeth, 
and speaking aside). 

I have perused her well ; 

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, 

That they have caught the king; and who knows yet 

But from this lady may proceed a gem 

To lighten all this isle ! 

Act II, Scene 4. — The Trial of Queen Katharine. 
Q. Kath. (to Wolsey). Again 

I do refuse you for my judge ; and here, 
Before you all, appeal unto the pope, 
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, 
And to be judged by him. 

Act III, Scene 1, presents two remarkable expressions from 
the devoutly Catholic Queen Katharine, which dispose en- 
tirely, by a parity of reasoning, of all of Knight's Protestant 
presumptions on the lines in " King John " : 

11 The king has been poisoned oy a monk, 
A most resolved villainy 

The Queen and her women are at needlework, when a 
messenger enters and informs her that Cardinals Wolsey and 
Campeius desire an audience : 



284 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Q. Kath. Pray their graces 

To come near. What can be their business 
With me, a poor, weak woman, fallen from favour ? 
I do not like their coming. Now, I thiuk on it, 
They should be good men : their affairs as righteous: 
But all hoods make not monies. 

And, again, in the interview which follows, she says to 
Wolsey : 

Q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing : Woe upon ye, 

And all such false prof essors ! Would ye have me 

(If you have any justice, any pity; 

If ye be anything ~but churchmen's habits) 

Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? 

In the next scene Wolsey thus reflects upon the threaten- 
ing complications which the advent of the beautiful Anne 
Bullen makes for him, in his profligate master's mind : 

Wolsey. Anne Bullen ! No ; I'll no Anne Bullens for him. 
There is more in it than fair visage. Bullen ! 
No, we'll no Bullens. 

The late queen's gentlewoman : a knight's daughter, 
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen! 
This candle burns not clear; 'tis I must snuff it; 
Then, out it goes. What though I know her virtuous, 
And well deserving? yet I know her for 
A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to 
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of 
Our hard-ruled king. Again, there is sprung up 
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer ; one 
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king, 
And is his oracle. 

The close of this scene describes Wolsey's fall : 

What news abroad ? 
Ceom. The heaviest and the worst 

Is your displeasure with the king. 
Wol. God bless him ! 

Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ; 
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master : Seek the king ; 
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him 



"King Henry Villi' 285 

What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee; 
Some little memory of me will stir him, 
(/ Tcnow his nolle nature.) 

Act IV, Scene 2. 
The Scene of Queen Kathakine's death. 
Q. Kath. In which I have commended to his goodness 

The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter : 5 — 

The dews of heaven fall thich in blessings on her ! 

Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding ; 

She is young, and of a noble modest nature, 

I hope, she will deserve well ; and a little 

To love her for her mother's saTce, that loved him, 

Heaven knows how dearly. 

It is painful to witness such a perversity of genius, to the 
injury of truth and morals, as is here exhibited by Shake- 
speare, in the almost lovable portraiture which he has at- 
tempted to foist upon his countrymen as "Bluff King Hal." 
Neither the history of England nor that of any other coun- 
try furnishes for the loathing of mankind a more cruel and 
unbounded tyrant than this same Henry YIII — this very 
proper father of Elizabeth, who, in many of its worst and de- 
testable traits, emulated her sire's career. The leading char- 
acteristics of this monster in human form are a constant blood- 
thirstiness and unbridled sensuality. The life of no man who 
offended him or thwarted his smallest purposes stood for a 
moment in his way, and the chastity of every woman was at 
the mercy of his whim. He indulged his lust for murder by 
indiscriminate burnings of both Catholics and Protestants; 
while his sensuality is conspicuously shown by his possession 
of six wives, two of whom he disposed of on the block. 
Nevertheless, the brute affected conscientiousness as to the 
validity of the marriage he had contracted with Katharine of 
Arragon, because she had been his brother's widow ! But he 
betrayed the false motive which pushed forward that divorce 
by marrying Anne Boleyn, with whose sister, Mary Boleyn, 
he had previously long lived in adultery. Indeed, the only 
reason why he gave Queen Katharine even the show of a 

6 Mary I, sometimes called "Bloody Mary." 



286 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

trial was because she was the daughter of an emperor, and 
he wished to avoid a war with Spain. In the sense of con- 
gruity, it is surely eminently proper that this monster, for 
whom Shakespeare fondly bespeaks a monument where he 
might "lie embalmed with goodness for all time," should 
have reintroduced the obsolete method of punishing religious 
offenders by boiling them in oil. In one batch this bluff King 
Hal sent fourteen Anabaptists to be burned in Smithfield; 
he afterward hanged six monks at Tyburn, and executed his 
more distinguished victims, like the venerable Bishop Fisher 
and Sir Thomas More, by the axe on Tower Hill. 

Elizabeth imitated the bloodthirstiness of Henry, and 
showed it in the beheading of Mary Queen of Scots at the in- 
stance of Sir Francis Bacon ; she also closely followed Henry's 
conjugal policy by condemning her discarded favorite, Essex, 
to execution. She was too old, probably (though of that we 
are not certain), to care to supply his place on the following 
day — according to the example of her illustrious father by his 
marriage with Jane Seymour. This union took place the 
very morning after the beautiful Anne Boleyn had been be- 
headed by his orders. 

It is noticeable in this play that Shakespeare speaks ten- 
derly and with prophetic kindness of the infant princess, who 
afterward became " Bloody Mary " ; and also noticeable that 
Queen Katharine, whose leading characteristic is one of Cath- 
olic bigotry, receives more reverential homage from his pen 
than any other female in his works. Perhaps it was Henry's 
own unswerving devotion to the Catholic faith, in which he 
devoutly died (despite his battle with the Pope and plunder 
of the monasteries), that secured for him the unfaltering de- 
votion of our poet. Indeed, it is not unlikely that the Bard 
of Avon, whose predilections for royalty we have so often 
noticed, might have derived much of his admiration for the 
character of Henry YIII as a ruler from knowing that he 
subverted all the guarantees of the constitution, practically 
abolished the Parliaments by suspending them for seven or 
eight years at a time, and established arbitrary government 
by "running" the State solely according to his own despotic 
will. 



"King Henry VI I H 287 

We may find a further reason for Shakespeare's tender- 
ness toward Henry YIII, notwithstanding that despot's sup- 
pression and plunder of the monasteries, in the possible fact 
that he distributed a large portion of the spoils of those in. 
stitutions in the way of lands among his favorite nobles. 
Probably broad acres of them were inherited by Shakespeare's 
especial patrons, Essex and Southampton. This fact could 
hardly have influenced the mind of Bacon, had he been the 
author of the Shakespeare plays ; nor would the Protestant 
Lord Chancellor have passed so tenderly and so respectfully 
over the characters of Bloody Mary and the bigot Katharine 
of Arragon, had his been the pen which traced the drama. 
He certainly would not have pardoned Henry the burning of 
the fourteen Anabaptists and the boiling of so many full- 
fledged Protestants in oil. The most that the minister who 
persuaded Elizabeth to execute the Catholic Mary Queen of 
Scots could have done in this connection, would have been 
to have preserved a decorous silence upon these points, in def- 
erence to his royal mistress. He certainly would not have 
alluded to the wild boar, her father, whose tusks were always 
dripping with the blood of martyred innocents, in the beau- 
tiful invocation : 

" Ever beloved and loving may Lis rule be; 
And when old Time shall lead him to his end, 
Goodness and he fill up one monument." 

It was surely William Shakespeare who wrote that. 



288 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



THE TKAGEDIES. 



CHAPTER XXX. 



The chief interest of " Troilns and Cressida," as far as our 
inquiry is concerned, turns, like the play of " King Henry 
Till," mainly on the date of its production by the author. 
And this because the disciples of the theory that Sir Fran- 
cis Bacon was the author of the Shakespearean dramas find in 
the play before us (which they say was produced in 1609) an 
erroneous quotation from Aristotle, which had previously ap- 
peared in an incorrect form in Bacon's "Advancement of 
Learning," printed in 1605. 

The phrase alluded to occurs in Act II, Scene 2, where 
Hector replies to the objections urged by Paris and Troilua 
against returning the captive Helen to the Greeks : 

Heotob. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well ; 
And on the cause and question now in hand 
Have glozed, but superficially ; not much 

Unlike young men whom Aristotle thought 

Unfit to hear moeal philosophy. 

" In the ' Advancement of Learning,' " says Judge Holmes 
(the chief of the Baconian theorists), " Bacon quotes Aristotle 
as saying that young men are no fit auditors of moral phi- 
losophy" because " they are not settled from the boiling heat 
of their affections, nor attempered with time and experience." 



"Troilus and Cressida! 1 289 

Now, inasmuch as Aristotle, in the expression thus attrib- 
uted to him, speaks of political philosophy instead of moral 
philosophy, and as this error is repeated in the Shakespearean 
play published four years afterward, Judge Holmes thinks 
the circumstance indicates that Lord Bacon wrote both that 
work and the play. He admits " that an older play of this 
name (' Troilus and Cressida '), perhaps an earlier sketch of 
this very one, had been entered upon the London ' Stationers' 
Register ' in 1602-3, but never printed " ; l and then volun- 
teers the remark that " there is much reason to believe that it 
[the earlier sketch] was by another author altogether." We 
can not but regret that the Judge, having gone to this extrem- 
ity, did not give us a reason for his opinion. 

I do not accept Judge Holmes's dates, nor do I agree with 
his -deductions. The weight of authority among the commen- 
tators is that the earlier piece of 1602-'3 was Shakespeare's 
own, and that the edition of 1609 was a revised and perfected 
version of the same, or, to use the phrase of that day, a copy 
that had been " toucht up." Nevertheless, the judgment of 
the two Shakespearean societies of Germany and England is 
widely at variance upon this point of date ; though it must be 
remarked that their disagreement does not comprehend the 
discussion of the Baconian theory. 

The " Trial Table " of Mr. Furnival (as to the date of the 
plays), published under the auspices of the New Shakespeare 
Society of London, sets the supposed date of the production 
by Shakespeare of " Troilus and Cressida " at 1606-"T, and 
places the year of its publication at 1609. On the other hand, 
Professor Hertzberg, a man of great erudition, writing under 
the auspices of the German Shakespeare Society, puts the 
date of its production down at 1603. Hunter again decides 
for 1609 ; but the Rev. William Harness a declares for 1602-'3. 

1 "The Authorship of Shakespeare," by Nathaniel Holmes, Judge, and 
Professor of Law in Harvard University, pp. 48-50. 

a The following is the statement of Harness, at the introduction of 
this play : 

"This play was entered at Stationers' Hall, February, 1602-3, under 
the title of ' The Booke of Troilus and Cressida,' and was therefore prob- 
ably written in 1602. It was not printed till 1609, when it was preceded 
19 



290 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Knight does not positively fix upon any date ; but I may re- 
mark, that had he and his contemporaries foreseen the ques- 
tion of Baconism which has been raised upon the above erro- 
neous duplication, much more attention would probably have 
been devoted to the date of publication. It must be admitted, 
however, that very plausible evidence in favor of 1609 is to be 
found in the printer's preface of the edition of that date. 

This printer's or editor's preface is headed or addressed as 
follows : 

" A Never Writer to an Ever Reader. 
" Newbs. 
" Eternall reader, you have heere a new play never stal'd 
with the stage, never clapper-clawed with the palmes of the 
vulger, and yet passing full of the palme comicall ; for it is a 
birth of a braine, that never undertook anything comicall 
vainely ; and were but the vaine name of comedies changde 
for the titles of commodoties, or of playes for pleas, you should 
see all those grand censors, that now stile them such vanities, 
flock to them for the main grace of their gravities ; especially, 
this author's comedies that are so fram'd to the life, that they 
serve for the most common commentaries of all the actions of 
our lives, showing such a dexteritie, and power of witte, that 
the most displeased with playes are pleased with his comedies. 
So much and such savor'd salt of witte is in his comedies, that 
they seem to be borne in that sea that brought forth Yenus. 
Amongst all there is none more witty than this ; and had I 
time I would comment upon it, though I know it needs not 
(for so much as will make you think your testern well be- 
stow'd), but for so much worth, as even poore I know to be 
stuft in it — certainly, there can be no doubt of that, your wor- 

by an advertisement of the editor, stating that it had never been ' staVd 
with the stage, never clapper-clawed with the palmes of the vulger.' Yet, 
as the tragedy was entered in 1602-'3, as acted by my Lord Chamber- 
lain's men, we must suppose that the editor's words do not mean that it 
had never been presented at all, but only at court, and not on the public 



"There was a play upon this subject, written by Decker and Ohettle, 
in 1599 ; the original story of ' Troilus and Cressida ' was the work of 
Lollius, a historiographer of Urbino, in Italy. It was, according to Dry- 
den, written in Latin verse, and translated by Chaucer. Shakespeare re- 
ceived the greater part of his materials from the 'Troy Booke' of Lyd- 
gate, and the romance of ' The Three Destructions of Troy.' " 



"Trozlus and Cresszda" 291 

ship. It deserves such a labour, as well as the best comedy 
in Terence or Plautus ; and, believe this, when hee is gone, 
and his comedies out of sale, you will scramble for them, and 
set up a new inquisition. Take this for a warning, and at the 
perill of your pleasures losse and judgments, refuse not, nor 
like this the lesse for not sullied with the smoaky breath of 
the multitude ; but thanke fortune for the 'scape it hath made 
amongst you. Since, by the grand possessors' wills, I be- 
lieve, you should have pray'd for them, rather than been 
pray'd. And so I leave all such to be pray'd for (for the 
states of their wits' healths) that will not praise it. — Vale ! " 

The extremity to which the Baconians are driven for their 
arguments is strikingly manifest in the assumption, by Judge 
Holmes, that the foregoing preface was written by the author 
of the play, inasmuch as "the printer," says the Judge, 
" would expect the author himself to furnish the preface, as 
well then as now." Consequently, either Bacon or Shake- 
speare is supposed to have correctly described himself in the 
caption or head-line of the address, as, 

"A never writer to an ever reader." 

Unfortunately for the theory of this assumed confession, 
Shakespeare has been mentioned, by his contemporary 
Meares, as the reputed author of several plays, previous to 
1598, two of them bearing his name as author, while in 
1593-94:, four years earlier, he had dedicated his undisputed 
" Yenus and Adonis " and his " Rape of Lucrece " to the 
Earl of Southampton, over his own signature. These latter, 
and the Sonnets which accompany them, are indisputably 
Shakespeare's productions, and are tilled with proofs, not only 
in the marks of his genius, but in numerous forms of expres- 
sion, that their author was entirely capable of the production 
of the dramas which followed under the same name ; nay, 
that the same mind must have produced them both. If, 
therefore, William Shakespeare did not write the Shake- 
spearean dramas, the question arises, who wrote " Yenus and 
Adonis," " Lucrece," and the Sonnets? And let me ask who 
claims the latter for Sir Francis Bacon? 

Besides, it is illogical to attempt to fix the date of the pro- 
duction of " Troilus and Cressida " as subsequent to the pro- 



292 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

duction of Bacon's "Advancement" (in 1605), simply because* 
the printer's preface to the edition of 1609 speaks of it as a 
new play, which had never been "sullied with the smoaky 
breath of the multitude." For it is admitted that it had not 
been played previous to 1609, and that then, having been first 
performed at court " before the King's Majesty," by the Lord 
Chamberlain's players, on the occasion of some royal revels, it 
passed into the printer's hands, on its transition to the general 
public. Moreover, everything in the preface indicates that 
the author of the play could not have been the writer of that 
bombastic effusion. Such self-laudation would have been im- 
possible; and Shakespeare's well-known modesty about his 
writings, or, at least, his notorious indifference to their re- 
nown, except in the way of dramatic exhibition, is utterly at 
variance with any such charge against him, and certainly also 
as against Bacon. The whole tenor of the preface indicates 
rather that Shakespeare, who had written the play in 1602-'3, 
had, after it had been held in reserve for six years, touched it 
up for the use of the court revels of 1609, and then had sold 
the copyright to some publisher that he might produce it as a 
new play, with such introductory remarks as he pleased. 
Whether the misquoted phrase from Aristotle was in the 
original sketch of 1602-'3, and was copied therefrom into the 
" Advancement " by Bacon, who had probably heard it read 
(along with the Lords Essex and Southampton, as was cus- 
tomary between patrons and authors in those days), or wheth- 
er Shakespeare had interpolated the phrase from the " Ad- 
vancement " into his perfect play of 1609, is not material to 
the point of authorship. The instances in literature of such 
plagiarisms are innumerable, and as the whole world has been 
trespassing upon the mind of Shakespeare as a general literary 
common for over two hundred years, the presumption that 
Bacon copied from memory the Aristotelean expression, with 
its error, from Shakespeare, instead of Shakespeare from 
Bacon, has by far the greatest share of probability : first, 
because it was an erroneous translation, which Bacon would 
not have made had he translated the phrase for himself ; and, 
second, because Shakespeare, in his first sketch of 1602-'3, 
undoubtedly changed the Aristotelean term of "political phi- 



"Troilus and Cressida." 293 

losophy " to that of " moral philosophy," in order to adapt the 
rebuke of Hector to Paris and Troilus — both of whom were 
notoriously immoral young gallants. I think that in this we 
have the secret of the paraphrase ; and I believe that, while 
the change of the word political for moral was intentional 
with Shakespeare, the plagiarism resulted probably from Ba- 
con's taking it on trust, when using it. In this connection it 
should be mentioned that Bacon expresses the same opinions, 
somewhat more fully, in the " De Augmentis " (published in 
1623), that " young men are less fit auditors of policy than of 
morals, until they have been thoroughly seasoned in religion 
and the doctrine of morals." 3 

It must be borne in mind, moreover, that at the time 
Bacon published the "Advancement" (1605), where this erro- 
neous quotation first appeared under his auspices, William 
Shakespeare was the reigning literary reputation, both as a 
dramatist and poet ; and we may somewhat measure the ex- 
tent of the fame which our poet acquired in his own day and 
generation by the fact that, though he died in 1616, there 
were six reprints of his works, in quarto form, between that 
date and the appearance of the folio edition of 1623. Yet, 
though Bacon lived to see the great renown of Shakespeare, 
and to make a most careful revise of his own works in 1625, 
these Baconian claimants would have us believe in one breath, 
that he was utterly indifferent to the revision of these won- 
drous dramas, and in the next, that he was secretly so 
thirsty for their just appreciation as to have written a printer's 
preface to one of them, in 1609, claiming it to be the equal of 
" the best comedy in Terence or Plautus." 

Again, though these mighty dramatic creations never re- 
ceived any correcting touch from Bacon's hand, one of his 
acknowledged works was revised by him twelve times. An- 
other point made by the Baconians is, that the name of 
William Shakespeare is never once mentioned in all of Bacon's 
voluminous productions, nor is Bacon's name alluded to by 
Shakespeare ; and yet Shakespeare was the man who notori- 
ously, even to the perceptions of that age, divided with the 

8 Holmes's "Authorship of Shakespeare," p. 49. 



294 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

great philosopher the renown of the realm of thought. The 
Baconians declare this silence as to Shakespeare to be a part 
of the philosopher's theory of concealment ; but would it not 
be more natural to regard it as an evidence of literary jeal- 
ousy 1 Shakespeare divided the applause of the world with 
one who had expected to bear the palm alone. Judge Holmes, 
Delia Bacon, and their followers try to mend the matter by 
rolling both these human wonders into one. 

The original source of the story of " Troilus and Cressida" 
was, according to Dryden, one Lollius, a Lombard, who wrote 
it in Latin verse, from which it was translated by Chaucer, 
and put into English lines, in the form of a poem of five long 
cantos. It must be noticed, too, that there were also three 
English ballads during the sixteenth century which, accord- 
ing to Halliwell, treated of the same subject, and likewise 
a piece of the same title which was written by Chettle and 
Decker, about 1599. The common originator of all these 
English productions, however, was the poet Chaucer, " who," 
remarks Knight, " was the one who would have the greatest 
charm for Shakespeare . . . though the whole story, under 
the treatment of Shakespeare, becomes thoroughly original." 

Coleridge thinks that it was the object of Shakespeare, in 
this grand Homeric poem, " to translate the poetic heroes ot 
Paganism into the not less rude, but more intellectually vigor- 
ous, and more featurely warriors of Christian chivalry, and to 
substantiate the distinct and graceful profiles or outlines of 
the Homeric epic into the flesh and blood of the romantic 
drama." In the estimation of that very scholarly and compe- 
tent American critic, Gulian C. Yerplanck, the beauties of this 
play " are of the highest order. It contains passages fraught 
with moral truth and political wisdom — high truths, in large 
and philosophical discourse, such as remind us of the loftiest 
disquisitions of Hooker, or Jeremy Taylor, on the foundations 
of social law .... The piece abounds, too, in passages of 
the most profound and persuasive practical ethics and grave 
advice for the government of life." 

" The feeling which the study of Shakespeare's ' Troilus 
and Cressida' calls forth," says Knight, "is that of almost 
prostration before the marvelous intellect which has produced 



" Troilus and Cresszda." 295 

it ... . But the play can not be understood upon a mere 
superficial reading ; it is full of the most subtile art. We may 
set aside particular passages, and admire their surpassing elo- 
quence — their profound wisdom ; but it is long before the 
play, as a whole, obtains its proper mastery over the under- 
standing." 

All of the above eulogiums upon the merits of the better 
parts of this most wonderful drama must be heartily admitted ; 
nevertheless, the main and most conspicuous aspect of the 
piece is that of an essay inculcating female licentiousness and 
prostitution. The knights of Troy, with the heroic Hector at 
their head, wield their swords to protect the abandoned Helen 
in her adulterous joys ; and an uncle and a father scheme to 
lead the beautiful but sensuous Cressida to a harlot's bed. 
All that is abandoned and debased in woman is made to figure 
agreeably in these two alluring wantons ; while the language 
of the latter is deliberately framed to stir the coarser appetites 
of the general audience. Well may it be assumed that Bacon 
would naturally have been ashamed to acknowledge his pat- 
ronage of such a theme as this ; and, for the matter of that, 
William Shakespeare either ! Nevertheless, the play, in de- 
spite of the lowness of its leading motive, is certainly one of 
the greatest of our bard's productions. 

One thing is certain, the broad text and lascivious pictures 
of this play, and those also of " Timon of Athens," which fol- 
lows it, could not have flamed from the cold -brained phi- 
losopher whom his biographers delight to report as one whose 
" habits were regular, frugal, and temperate, and whose life 
was pure." 4 

Certainly, no "frugal, temperate philosopher of sober 
habits and pure life " could have acquired that quickness of 
the amorous sense which enabled Shakespeare, through the 
language of Ulysses, to picture, as it were, that dancing white 
heat which constantly played about Cressida's dimpled limbs 
— that satin sheen of procreative mystery ; that torrid atmos- 
phere of quivering noon ; that lambent loveliness which, in 

4 See, in Act IV, Scene 1, of "Hamlet," the three last lines of the 
King's third speech. 



296 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

the interest of nature, bathes even ugliness with a lurid 
charm. 

Ulysses. Fye, fye upon her ! 

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, 
Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out 
At every joint and motion of her body. 
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, 
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, 
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
To every ticklish reader ! Set them down 
For sluttish spoils of opportunity, 
And daughters of the game. 

This was not the voice of the philosophic sage issuing from 
" the tranquil retreats at Gorhambury," breathing from " the 
classic groves of Twickenham Park," or " the musty cloisters 
of Gray's Inn " ; but the luxurious soul of the London mana- 
ger, whose amorous wrongs at the hands of some London 
Cressida were echoed by Leontes in " Winter's Tale," and re- 
echoed in the agonized wail of Othello — 

"But, O, what damned minutes tells he o'er, 
Who dotes, yet doubts ; suspects, yet strongly loves ! " 

Shakespeare's legal acquirements. 

The search made by Lord Chief Justice Campbell through 
the text of " Troilus and Cressida " for evidences of the legal 
acquirements of Shakespeare is not very largely rewarded, 
and I do not think that the manner in which his lordship pre- 
sents them adds much to the argument to which he is devoted. 
With the view, however, of being thoroughly just to the 
learned Chief Justice, I herewith transcribe the entire of his 
remarks upon this production : 

"Troilus and Cressida. — In this play the author shows 
his insatiable desire to illustrate his descriptions of kissing 
by his recollection of the forms used in executing deeds. 
When Pandarus (Act III, Scene 2) has brought Troilus and 
Cressida together in the orchard to gratify their wanton in- 
clinations, he advises Troilus to give Cressida a hiss in fee- 
farm? which Malone explains to be * a kiss of a duration that 



" Troilus and Cresstda." 297 

has no bounds, a fee-farm being a grant of lands in fee, that 
is, for ever, reserving a rent certain.' 

" The advice of Pandarus to the lovers being taken, he 
exclaims : 

' What ! billing * again ? Here's — In witness, the parties interchange- 
ally—' 

the exact form of the testatem clause in an indenture: 'In 
witness whereof, the parties interchangeably have hereto set 
their hands and seals.' 

" To avoid a return to this figure of speech, I mav here 
mention other instances in which Shakespeare introduces it. 
In ' Measure for Measure,' Act IY, Scene 1 : 

1 But my kisses bring again 
Seals of love, but seaVd in vain ' ; 

and in his poem of ' Yenus and Adonis ' : 

' Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, 
"What bargains may I make, still to be sealing ? ' " 

May I hope that the friends of his lordship will excuse 
me, if I say that these are illustrations only of an acute 
critical faculty having been unduly taxed ? 



298 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

" TIMON OF ATHENS." 

This play was supposed to have been produced by Shake- 
speare in 1607-'8, but not published until after his death, 
and then first in the folio of 1623. The story is taken main- 
ly from Plutarch, and partly from Lucian. There was, how- 
ever, an English manuscript play before it, written by some 
unknown author, which, inasmuch as it contained the char- 
acter of a faithful steward, and a mock banqueting scene 
like that introduced in our poet's version of " Timon," has 
naturally received a portion of the credit of its origination. 
The faithful steward, it may readily be supposed from what 
we have seen of Shakespeare's tendencies, would not have 
appeared in " Timon," had not some one else produced him 
to his hand, as in the case of Adam, in " As You Like It " ; 
and it is noticeable, moreover, that in this case our poet ex- 
hibits a disposition to reward the steward Flavius for his 
honesty, according to the original, which was more than he 
did for poor old Adam. The play is a satire upon the grati- 
tude of the world, in which it seems to me that Timon is 
too readily transformed into a misanthrope, because a few 
flatterers, whom he had feasted in his wealthy days, refused 
to lend him money when he failed. 

The first evidence we have of the faithfulness of Elavius 
is in Act II, Scene 2, where we find the steward deploring, 
with many moans, the descent of Timon into bankruptcy. 
Nevertheless, he bewails his master's prodigality with such a 
natural consideration for the continuance of his own profit- 
able post that he makes no great impression for virtuous 
disinterestedness. 



" Timon of A thens? 299 

Flavitts. Heavens ! have I said, the bounty of this lord ! 

How many prodigal bits have slaves and peasants. 
This night englutted ! 

At the opening of the fourth act the bankrupt and dis- 
gusted Timon appears, self-exiled, without the walls of Ath- 
ens, on his way to the woods, as a recluse. 

Presently, when driven by hunger to dig for roots, he dis- 
covers gold in large quantity at the base of a tree. 

The news of Timon's possession of gold is carried back to 
Athens by the army, and soon his old flatterers flock out to 
the wood to pay fresh court to him. Among the rest comes 
Flavius, the steward. He alone receives kind treatment from 
the misanthrope, along with gold, and Timon recognizes his 
honesty as follows : 

Timon. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now 
So comfortable? It almost turns 
My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold 
Thy face. — Surely, this man was born of woman. — 
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, 
Perpetual-sober gods ! I do proclaim 
One honest man, — mistake me not, — but one ; 
No more, I pray, — and he is a steward. — 
Here, take : — the gods out of my misery 
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy y 
But thus condition'd : Thou shalt build from men ; 
Hate all, curse all : show charity to none; 
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone 
Ere thou relieve the beggar : Give to dogs 
What thou deny'st to men ; let prisons swallow them, 
Debts wither them : Be men like blasted woods, 
And may diseases lick up their false bloods ! 
And so, farewell, and thrive. 

Flav. O, let me stay, 

And comfort you, my master. 

Tim. If thou hat'st 

Curses, stay not ; fly whilst thou art blest and free : 
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. 

Act IV, Scene 3. 

I make this quotation because this is the second instance 
only, out of twenty-nine plays, in which a man of less rank 
than a noble or a knight is spoken of with approbation and 



300 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

respect. The first instance, as I have already stated, is the 
feeble one of old Adam, in " As You Like It." It is worthy 
of observation, however, that one of the characters, at the 
opening of the next act of this play, reports that Timon had 
given to his steward " a mighty sum." And here it should be 
remarked, moreover, that the stewards of great lords and 
millionaires, like Timon, were often of exceedingly good fam- 
ilies, as we see by the steward of G-oneril in " King Lear," 
who is almost equal to a cabinet minister. 

This play furnishes us with but one other illustration bear- 
ing on our special points of view, and that springs from the 
rude construction of Timon's epitaph at the close. Those who 
favor the theory that Sir Francis Bacon was the author of 
the Shakespearean dramas denounce the epitaph on our poet's 
tomb for the meanness of its style, and boldly assert that it 
came from Shakespeare when he was drawing near his end, 
with no one of talent near at hand to help construct it. In 
order to measure the worth of this opinion, I will here quote 
the epitaph from Timon, and compare it with the other: 

" Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft, 
Seek not my name. A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left ! 
Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, all living men did hate, 
Pass by and curse thy fill ; but pass, and stay not here thy gait." 

The following is the epitaph in the Stratford church, and 
it will be perceived that, so far as style is concerned, one dog- 
gerel has but little the advantage of the other : 

"Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear, 
To dig the dust enclosed here, 
Blest be the man that spares these stones, 
And curst be he that moves my bones." 



" Coriolanus." 30 1 



CHAPTEE XXXII. 



" In the arrangement of the plays of Shakespeare in a se- 
rial form, it would seem," says Hunter, " that ' Coriolanus r 
should follow ' Julius Caesar' and ' Antony and Cleopatra/ 
since it was probably written after them." But he also gives 
it as his opinion that, inasmuch as " Coriolanus " belongs to a 
period of Roman history antecedent to that of the Caesars, 
this play should precede the other two dramas in the collected 
editions of the dramatist's works. The Roman plays are re- 
markably destitute of notes of time, internal or external. 
They were probably produced in 1607, 1608, or 1609. 

"' Coriolanus' itself was neither entered at Stationers' 
Hall nor printed till 1623." " The leading idea of the play 
and pivot upon which all the action turns," says Knight, " is 
the contest for power in Rome between the patricians and 
plebeians " ; and I will add that, in agreement with all Shake- 
speare's previous exhibitions of aristocratic inclination, he 
again, in this play, constantly sides with arbitrary and des- 
potic power against the liberties of the people. 

" The whole dramatic moral of 6 Coriolanus,' " says Hazlitt, 
"is that those who have little shall have less, and that those 
who have much shall take all that others have left. The peo- 
ple are poor, therefore they ought to be starved. They work 
hard, therefore they ought to be treated like beasts of burden. 
They are ignorant, therefore they ought not to^be allowed to 
feel that they want food, or clothing, or rest, or that they are 
enslaved, oppressed, and miserable." ' 

1 Hazlitt's " Characters of Shakespeare's Plays," p. 74, edition of 1818. 



302 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

In fact, the critical reader will discover that the main 
purpose of this play is to deride the principle of popular suf- 
frage ; nay, to deny and scoff at public rights of all sorts, and 
especially to represent the working classes as mean, meritless, 
and cowardly. Coriolanus, the haughty patrician, on the 
other hand, though a cruel, conceited, overhearing brute, with 
no more policy or manners than are necessary to a brawny 
gladiator, is so handled by our poet as to irresistibly win the 
sympathies of every audience. The most singular, nay, sur- 
prising, proof of this power of enchantment on the part of 
Shakespeare is elicited from American hearers, who, in the 
face of their democratic bias, unthinkingly applaud the patri- 
cian despot at every insult he puts upon the masses, and hurra 
at each mock he makes at their competency to exercise opinion. 
This, while it says a great deal for the magic power of Shake- 
speare, reflects very little credit upon the discrimination of the 
American people ; except, indeed, an admiration for his gen- 
ius is to be set above their respect for republican principles. 

I will now proceed to allow Shakespeare to speak for him- 
self, with the simple further explanation that a great extent 
of text is necessary, because, as I said before, the whole of 
this play is an essay against human rights and popular liberty : 

Act I, Scene 1. — Rome. A Street. 

Enter a company of mutinous Citizens, with staves, clubs, and other 

weapons. 

1 Cit. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. 

All. Speak, speak. [Several speaking at ance. 

1 Cit. You are all resolved rather to die than to famish. 

Cit. Resolved, resolved. 

1 Cit. First, you know, Caius Marcius [Coriolanus] is chief enemy to 
the people. 

Cit. We know't, we know't. 

1 Cit. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is't a 
verdict? 

Cit. No more talking on't : let it he done : away, away. 

2 Cit. One word, good citizens. 

1 Cit. We are accounted poor citizens; the patricians good. What 
authority surfeits on, would relieve us; if they would yield us but the 
superfluity, while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us 
humanely ; but they think we are too dear ; the leanness that afflicts us, 



" Cortolanus." 303 

the object of our misery, is an inventory to particularize their abundance ; 
our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes, ere 
we become rakes ; for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not 
in thirst for revenge. 

Cit. Soft; who comes here? 
Enter Menenitts Aoeippa [a Patrician and the close friend of Cobio- 
lanus, or Caius Maeoius, as he is yet called], 

2 Oit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always loved the 
people. 

1 Cit. He's one honest enough ; 'Would all the rest were so ! 

Men. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you 
With bats and clubs ? The matter? Speak, I pray you. 

1 Oit. Our business is not unknown to the senate; they have had 
inkling, this fortnight, what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em 
in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths ; they shall know we 
have strong arms, too. 

Men. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, 
Will you undo yourselves ? 

1 Cit. We cannot, sir, we are undone already. 

Men. I tell you, friends, most charitable care 
Have the patricians of you. 

1 Cit. Care for us! — True, indeed! — They ne'er cared for us yet. 
Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make 
edicts for usury, to support usurers ; repeal daily any wholesome act es- 
tablished against the rich ; and provide more piercing statutes daily, to 
chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will ; and 
there's all the love they bear us. 

Enter Cobiolantts [who has just come from quelling a bread riot in an- 
other part of the city]. 

Cos. Thanks. — What's the matter, you dissensious rogues. 
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, 
Make yourselves scabs ? 

1 Cit. We have ever your good word. 

Cob. He that will give good words to thee, will natter 

Beneath abhorring. — What would you have, you curs, 
That like nor peace, nor war ? The one affrights you, 
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you, 
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares ; 
Where foxes, geese : You are no surer, no, 
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, 
To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, 
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness 



304 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Deserves your hate : and your affections are 

A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 

"Which would increase his evil. He that depends 

Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, 

And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye t 

With every minute you do change a mind ; 

And call him noble, that was now your hate, 

Him vile, that was your garland. Whafs the matter, 

That in these several places of the city 

You cry against the noble senate, who, 

Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else 

Would feed on one another ? — What's their seeking? 

Men. For corn at their own rates ; whereof, they say, 
The city is well stored. 

Cojk. Hang 'em ! They say ! 

TheyHl sit by thefire, % and presume to Jcnow 
What's done in the Capitol : who's like to rise, 
Who thrives, and who declines : side factions, and give out 
Conjectural marriages ; making parties strong, 
And feebling such as stand not in their liking, 
Below their cobbled shoes. They say, there's grain enough ? 
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth, 
And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry 
With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high 
As I could pick my lance. 

Men. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded ; 
For though abundantly they lack discretion, 
Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, 
What says the other troop ? 

Cob. They are dissolved : hang 'ein t 

They said, they were an-hungry ; sigh'd forth proverbs : — 
That, hunger broke stone walls ; that, dogs must eat ; 
That, meat was made for mouths : that, the gods sent not 
Corn for rich men only : — With these shreds 
They vented their complainings ; which being answer'd, 
And a petition granted them, a strange one 
(To break the heart of generosity, 

And make bold power look pale), they threw their caps 
As they would hang them on the horns o' the moon, 
Shouting their exultation. 

Men. What is granted them? 

Cob. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms, 

3 The poor have no fireplaces in Eome, and no stoves, except for cook- 
ing purposes, and these are supplied only with charcoal. Could Bacon r 
who had traveled in Italy, make such a mistake as this ? 



" Coriolanus!' 305 

Of their own choice : One's Junius Brutus, 
Sicinius Velutus, and I know not — ''Sdeath ! 
The raddle should have first unroof "'d the city, 
Ere so prevailed with me; it will in time 
Win upon power, and throw forth greater themes 
For insurrection's arguing. 

Mew. This is strange. 

Cob. Go, get you home, you fragments ! 

Miter a Messenger. 

Mess. Where's Caius Marcius ? 

Ooe. Here. What's the matter ? 

Mess. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. 

Ooe. I am glad on't ; then, we shall have means to vent 

Our musty superfluity. 

1 Senator (to the citizens). Hence ! To your homes ! hegone ! 

Cos. Nay, let them follow. 

The Volsces have much corn : take these rats thither 
To gnaw their gamers. — Worshipful mutineers, 
Your valour puts well forth : pray, follow. 
[Exeunt Senators, Coriolanus, and followers. The citizens steal away. 

The scene now changes to Corioli, the chief city of the 
Yolsci, where Tullus Aufidius, the great Yolscian rival of 
Coriolanus, harangues the Yolscian Senate in favor of war 
against Rome. This scene is followed by a long colloquy in 
Borne between Yolumnia, the arrogant mother of Coriolanus, 
and Yirgilia, his wife, about his personal merits and the pros- 
pects of the pending strife. The audience being thus pre- 
pared, the scene opens before Corioli, where Coriolanus, with 
his forces, stand drawn up for battle. The Yolsces issue from 
the city and after some fighting, the Romans, though having 
gained some temporary advances, are beaten back to their 
trenches. 

Oor. All the contagion of the south light on you, 

You shames of Rome ! — you herd of — Boils and plagues 

Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorred 

Further then seen, and one infect another 

Against the wind a mile ! You souls of geese, 

That bear the shapes of men, how have you run 

From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell ! 

All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale 

With flight and agued fear ! Mend, and charge home, 

Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, 

20 



306 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

And make my wars on you : look to't : Come on ; 
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, 
As they us to our trenches followed. 
[Another alarum. The Volsces and Romans re-enter, and the fight is re- 
newed. The Volsces retire into Corioli, and ^Lk&qyq^ follows them to 
the gates. 

So, now the gates are ope : — Now prove good seconds : 
'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, 
Not for the fliers : mark me, and do the like. 

[He enters the gates, and is shut in. 

This daring example inspires the Komans to fresh efforts ; 
they force the gates, overcome the Yolsces, and capture their 

city. 

Scene 6. — Rear the Roman Gamp of Oominitjs. 

Enter Coeiolantjs, bloody. 
Goe. Come I too late ? 

Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, 
But mantled in your own. 

Where is that slave, 
Which told me they had beat you to your trenches ? 
Where is he ? Call him hither. 
Coe. Let him alone, 

He did inform the truth ; but for our gentlemen, 
The common file, — (A plague ! tribunes for them t) 
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge 
From rascals worse than they. 

In the second act Cains Marcius is invested with the 
honorary title of Coriolanus (which, for convenience, I have 
already used), and is brought forward by the Senate and 
patricians as their candidate for consul. The process of 
canvassing for that office required the candidate to appear 
publicly in the market-place, clad in " a garment of humil- 
ity" made of coarse stuff, and to meekly solicit, under the 
auspices of the tribunes, the suffrages of the People. The 
tribunes of the People, consequently, though necessarily 
plebeians, were men of great power and prestige, for they 
could wield the masses so as to either secure or defeat an 
aristocrat's election; while the People themselves, who so 
abjectly cringed under innumerable strokes of degradation, 
still insisted upon having ^their candidates come humbly to 



"Corzolanus? 307 

the market-place, and wear the livery of application. The 
masses, however, were always easily controlled by the trib- 
unes. As an evidence of the power of the tribunal office, 
it is only necessary to refer to the fact that, in Julius Caesar's 
time, Clodius (the violator of the sacred mysteries of the Bona 
Dea), one of the most noble of the old patrician families, and 
who, at the same time, was possessed of vast wealth, chose, by 
way of revenging himself on Cicero, to repudiate his aristo- 
cratic birth and honors, and to resign his power and prestige 
as a senator, in order to be elected a tribune of the People. 
By dint of incessant efforts, and by distributing his immense 
means with an unsparing hand, he accomplished his object, 
and, having enticed the plebeians under his profitable and 
tumultuous banner, succeeded in driving the influential and 
incomparable orator into exile. 3 

As to the dress worn by the applicants for the consulship, 
we get a clear and satisfactory idea from Plutarch, who says : 

" It was the custom for those who were candidates for such 
a high office to solicit and caress the people in the forum, 
and, at those times, to be clad in a loose gown without the 
tunic / whether that humble dress was thought more suitable 
for suppliants, or whether it was for the convenience of show- 
ing their wounds, as so many tokens of valor. For it was 
not from any suspicion the citizens then had of bribery that 
they required the candidates to appear before them ungirt, 
and without any close garment, when they came to beg their 
votes ; since it was much later than this, and indeed many 
ages after, that buying and selling stole in, and money came 
to be the means of gaining an election. Then, corruption 
reaching also the tribunals and the camps, arms were subdued 
by money, and the commonwealth was changed into a mon- 
archy." 4 

This, though written of a period four hundred and eighty- 
eight years before the Christian era, furnishes a suggestive 
lesson to Americans to-day. 

* " Life of Marcus Julius Cicero," by William Forsyth (London : John 
Murray, 1869), pp. 155, 175, 176. 

4 Langhorne's "Plutarch" (Harper & Brothers, 1874), p. 169. 



308 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

In the first scene of the second act we find what is re- 
garded as the best recommendation of Coriolanus for his civic 
candidature : 

Men. Martins is coming home. . . . Where is he wounded ? 

Vol. [the mother of Coeiolanus]. I' the shoulder, and i' the left arm. 

There will be large cicatrices to show the people, when he shall stand for 

his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' the body. 

Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh — there's nine that I know. 

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, twenty-five wounds upon 

him. 

Men. Now it's twenty-seven ; every gash was an enemy's grave. [A 
shout and flourish.] Hark ! the trumpets. 

Yol. These are the ushers of Marcius ; before him 

He carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; 
Death, that dark spirit, in 's nervy arm doth lie ; 
Which being advanced, declines ; and then men die. 

Coriolanus at this point enters, receives his triumph, and 
then, exhibiting some restiveness at the popular acclaim, re- 
marks restively that 

"The good patricians must be visited," 

and passes on, amid the sound of trumpets and the acclama- 
tions of the multitude, to the Capitol. Thereupon Brutus 
(not the Brutus of Caesar's time) and Sicinius, the tribunes 
of the People, deliver themselves as follows : 

Brit. All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights 
Are spectacled to see him ; your prattling nurse 
Into a rapture lets her baby cry, 
While she chats him ; the kitchen malkin pins 
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, 
Clambering the walls to eye him ; Stalls, bulks, windows, 
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed 
With variable complexions ; all agreeing 
In earnestness to see him. 

Scene 2. — The Capitol. 
Enter two Officers to lay cushions. 

1 Off. Come, come, they are almost here. How many standjfor con- 
sulships ? 

2 Off. Three, they say ; but 'tis thought of every one, Coriolanus will 
carry it. 

1 Off. That's a brave fellow ; but he's vengeance proud, and loves 






" Coriolanus!' 309 

not the common people. ... If he did not care whether he had their 
love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor 
harm ; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render 
it him ; and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their op- 
posite. Now, to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people, 
is as had as that which he dislikes, to natter them for their love. 

Coriolanus then comes in, but the flattery which is lav- 
ished upon him displeases his disdainful nature to such an ex- 
tent that he retires under the apparent pressure of a wounded 
modesty : 

Cob. I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun, 
When the alarum were struck, than idly sit 
To hear my nothings monstered. {Exit. 

Men. Masters of the people, 

Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter 
(That's thousand to one good one), when you now see, 
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour, 
Than one on 's ears to hear it ? 

Re-enter Cobiolantts. 
Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well pleased 

To make thee consul. 
Cob. I do owe them still 

My life and services. 
Men. It then remains, 

That you do speak to the people. 
Cob. I do beseech you, 

Let me o'erleap that custom ; for I cannot 

Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them, 

For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage. Please you, 

That I may pass this doing. 
Sio. Sir, the people 

Must have their voices ; neither will they bate 

One jot of ceremony. 
Cob. It is a part 

That I shall blush in acting, and might well 

Be taJcenfrom the people. 
Beit. Mark you that? [To SioiNrus. 

Scene 3. — The MarJoet-place. Citizens assembled. 

Enter Cobiolantts and Menenitjb. 

3 Citizen. Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; mark his 

behaviour. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where 

he stands by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his requests by 



310 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

particulars ; wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him 
our own voices with our own tongues ; therefore, follow me, and I'll di- 
rect you how you shall go by him. 

All. Content, content. [Exeunt. 

Men. O sir, you are not right ; have you not known 

The worthiest men have done't ? 
Coe. What must I say ? 

"I pray, sir " — Plague upon't! I cannot bring 
My tongue to such a pace. 

Men. You'll mar all ; 

I'll leave you : pray you, speak to them, I pray you, 

In wholesome manner. 
Cob. Bid them wash their faces, 

And keep their teeth clean. 

The haughty candidate then, under the pressure of Mene- 
nius, makes a satirical application to the People for their suf- 
frages, which is so evidently insincere — nay, so contemptuous 
— that the citizens detect its tone. Nevertheless, under the 
awe of his presence, they give him their voices ; whereupon, 
stripping himself rapidly and impatiently of his suppliant 
robes, he passes to the Senate-house to receive the more con- 
genial aristocratic honors. 

Upon further reflection, however, the citizens perceive he 
has only deceived and mocked them ; so at the instigation of 
the tribunes, who suggest he has not yet been confirmed, they 
resolve he shall reappear in the market-place, and be obliged 
to undergo an honest ordeal. 

The third act opens under this state of things ; but Corio- 
lanus, having got along more easily with the Senate, appears 
as consul, and in that capacity receives the news that the 
Yolsces have again broken out in war. In the midst of this 
discussion the tribunes Sicinius and Brutus enter, fresh from 
the discontented people. 

Cos. Behold! these are the tribunes of the people, 

The tongues 0' the common mouth. I do despise them ; 
For they do prank them in authority, 
Against all noole sufferance. 

The tribunes, nevertheless, insist he shall again go to the 
market-place and apologize to the People. 



"Corzolanus" 311 

Cor. Are these your herd ? 

Must these have voices, that can yield them now, 

And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices ? 

You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? 

Have you not set them on ? 
Men. Be calm, he calm. 

Cob. It is a purposed thing, and grows by plot, 

To curb the will of the nobility : 

Suffer it, and live with such as cannot rule, 

Nor ever will be ruled. 
Bett. Call't not a plot : 

The people cry, you mock'd them ; and, of late, 

When corn was given them gratis, you repined ; 

Scandall'd the suppliants for the people ; call'd them 

Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. 

Cor. My nobler friends, 

I crave their pardons : 

For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them 
Kegard me as I do not flatter, and 
Therein behold themselves: J say again, 
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate 
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, 
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd and scatter'd, 
By mingling them with us, the honour 'd number ; 
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that 
Which they have given to beggars. 

Brit. You speak 0' the people 

As if you were a god to punish, not 

A man of their infirmity. 
Sio. 'Twere well, 

We let the people know't. 
Men. What, what ! his choler 1 

Cor. Choler! 

Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, 

By Jove, 'twould be my mind. 
Sio. It is a mind, 

That shall remain a poison where it is, 

Not poison any further. 
Cor. Shall remain ! — 

Hear you this Triton of the minnows ? mark you 

His absolute " shall " t 

Brtj. He has said enough. 



312 Shakespeare, front an American Point of View, 

Sio. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall answer 

As traitors do. 
Cob. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee! — 

What should the people do with these bald tribunes? 

On whom depending, their obedience fails 

To the greater bench : In a rebellion, 

When what's not meet, but what must J?e, was law, 

Then were they chosen ; in a better hour, 

Let what is meet, be said, it must be meet, 

And throw their power i' the dust. 
Beu. Manifest treason. 
Sio. This a consul? no. 

Beit. The iEdiles, ho ! — Let him be apprehended. 
Sio. Go, call the people : [Exit Betttus] in whose name, myself 

Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator, 

A foe to the public weal : obey, I charge thee, 

And follow to thine answer. 

Coriolanus draws his sword ; a tumult follows, in which 
the people are driven in. 

Com. (to Coeiolantts). Will you hence, 

Before the tag return t whose rage doth rend 
Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear 
What they are used to bear. 

[Exeunt Coeiolanus, Cominius, and others. 
1 Pat. This man has marr'd his fortune. 

Re-enter Bbuttjs and Sioinitjs, with the rabble. 
Sio. Where is this viper, 

That would depopulate the city, 

Be every man himself ? 
Men. You worthy tribunes, — 

Sio. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock 

With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law, 

And therefore law shall scorn him further trial 

Than the severity of the public power, 

Which he so sets at nought. 

• . . . . . • 

Betj. We'll hear no more : — 

Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence ; 

Lest his infection, being of catching nature, 

Spread further. 

Scene 2. — A Room in Coeiolantjs's House. 
Enter Coeiolantjs and Patricians. 
Cob. Let them pull all about mine ears ; present me 
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels ; 



" Corzolanus" 313 

Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, 
That the precipitation might down stretch 
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still 
Be thus to them. 

Enter Voltjmnia. 
1 Pat. You do the nobler. 

Cob. I muse, my mother 

Does not approve me further, who was wont 

To call them woollen vassals, things created 

To buy and sell with groats ; to show bare heads 

In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder, 

When one but of ray ordinance stood up 

To speak of peace, or war. I talk of you ; [To Volum. 

Why did you wish me milder ? Would you have me 

False to my nature ? Eather say, I play 

The man I am. 
Vol. O, sir, sir, sir, 

I would have had you put your power well on, 

Before you had worn it out. 
Cor. Let go. 

Vol. I pr'ythee now, my son, 

Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand ; 
And thus far having stretch'd it (here be with them), 
Thy knee bussing the stones (for in such business 
Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant 
More learned than their ears), waving thy head, 
Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, 
That humble, as the ripest mulberry, 
Now will not hold the handling : Or, say to them, 
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils, 
Hast not the soft way, which, thou dost confess, 
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, 
In asking their good loves ; out thou wilt frame 
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far 
As thou hast power, and person. 

Here is a repetition of the same royal principle of perfidy 
practiced by Prince John of Lancaster (with the approbation 
of our author) against the army of the Archbishop of York, 
Mowbray, and Hastings, in the Second Part of " King Henry 
IV " ; the Prince putting the forces of these leaders merci- 
lessly to the sword, after having persuaded them to lay down 
their arms upon terms, and a full pardon, secured by his 



314 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

princely honor — a like perfidy to that perpetrated against the 
forces of Wat Tyler and Jack Cade (also with the approba- 
tion of the poet) after they had been induced to disband, on 
the most solemn promises of amnesty from the king. 

The haughty office-seeker Coriolanus at length pursues his 
mother's perfidious advice, but, his arrogant, unbridled na- 
ture giving way under it, he again rails at the people, who, 
unable to endure his insolence any longer, mercifully banish 
him. He then thus curses and takes leave of them : 

Coe. You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate 
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
As the dead carcases of unburied men 
That do corrupt my air, I banish you. 

Thereupon he at once goes over to the Yolscians, betrays to 
them the secrets of his country, and, out of mere personal 
spite and revenge, leads the armies of the enemy against Rome. 
In this derogate and shameful attitude he is always vocifer- 
ously applauded by American audiences. But his infamous 
arms are successful, and he is only dissuaded from putting his 
native city to the sword by the intercession of his mother, 
wife, and child. 

For thus disappointing the Yolscians of their expected 
spoil, however, he is conspired against by their leaders and 
slain. The worst feature of the play is, so far as Shakespeare 
is concerned, that the patriotic Roman citizens who had justly 
banished Coriolanus for his treasons to the People are rep- 
resented as trembling with cowardice at finding him return as 
an invader ; and, in that state of wretched fear, to confess 
that they did him wrong in resenting his crimes against their 

liberties. 

Act IV, Scene 6. 

Men. {to the Tribunes). You have made good work, 

You and your apron men ; you that stood so much 

Upon the voice of occupation and 

The breath of garlic-eaters ! 
Com. He will shake 

Your Eome about your ears. 

Enter a troop of Citizens. 
Men. Here come the clusters — 

And is Aufidius with him ! — You are they 



" Coriolanus." 3 1 5 

That made the air unwholesome, when you cast 
Your stinking, greasy caps, in hooting at 
Coriolanus' exile. Now, he's coming ; 
And not a hair upon a soldier's head, 
"Which will not prove a whip ; as many coxcombs, 
As you threw caps up, will he tumble down, 
And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter ; 
If he could burD us all into one coal, 
We have deserved it. 
Oit. 'Faith, we hear fearful news. 

1 Cit. For mine own part, 

"When I said, banish him, I said, 'twas pity. 

2 Cit. And so did I. 

3 Cit. And so did I ; and, to say the truth, so did very many of us : 
That we did, we did for the best ; and that, though we willingly consented 
to his banishment, yet it was against our will. 

Com. You are goodly things, you voices f 

Men. You have made good work, you and your cry I 

It may be urged, in partial relief of the hard and revenge- 
ful nature of Coriolanus, that he finally spared Rome at the 
appeal of his mother ; but it will be seen that he was moved 
rather by a selfish dread of everlasting infamy than by her 
appeals or any better motive. 

VoLUMNiA. Thou know'st, great son, 

The end of war's uncertain ; but this certain, 
That, if thou conquer Kome, the benefit 
Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name, 
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses : 
Whose chronicle thus writ, — The man was noble, 
But with his last attempt he wiped it out ; 
Destroyed his country ; and his name remains 
To the ensuing time, abhorred. 

Just previous to this we had heard him say to Aufidius, 
the Yolscian general : 

" For I will fight 
Against my canker'd country with the spleen 
Of all the under fiends." 

And, right afterward, again to the Yolscian commander : 

" I'll not to Eome, I'll back with you ; and pray you, 
Stand me in this cause. [Pointing to his mother and his wife." 



316 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

There certainly could have been no better destiny in re- 
serve for this bad man than to be hacked to death, as he was, 
by the swords of those for whom he had betrayed his country. 

There may be some to ask mercy for his memory because 
of his bravery in battle ; but that was a mere gladiatorial in- 
stinct ; and others may palliate his brutal nature by reference 
to the savage teachings of his dam, who more than matched 
his vulgar curse of: 

Coe. The fires of the lowest hell fold in the people ! 
with: 

Vol. Now, the red pestilence strike all the trades in Rome ! 

This sort of teaching, it is true, accounts for much of his 
perverted disposition, but it does not make bad deeds good, 
nor justify his enthroning in his heart the selfish passion of 
personal revenge above all the natural impulses, all the obli- 
gations of patriotism, all the duties of friendship, and even 
the ties of nature^ Nor does it warrant : 

Cor. Do not bid me 

Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate 
Again with Rome's mechanics ! 

In this play, and in its encouragement of the aristocratic 
characteristics of Coriolanus, presenting them always, as the 
author does, for the auditors' applause, the Baconians may 
find a plausible argument toward their theory ; for I must 
once more repeat, it seems incredible that William Shake- 
speare, who was born among the working classes, should 
speak with such invariable and bitter scorn of mechanics, 
laborers, and tradesmen, especially in deriding the latter with 
his favorite epithet of " woollen slaves," 5 as the token of his 

6 This epithet, and Shakespeare's frequent allusions to the " greasy 
oaps" and "woolen caps" of the multitude, doubtless had reference to the 
habit of dress imposed upon the lower classes in England, by act of Par- 
liament in the fifteenth century, to wear woolen caps of a specified pat- 
tern, so that they might not be able to confound themselves, under any 
circumstances, with the gentry. Rosalind, in " Love's Labour's Lost," 
alludes to this practice in the satirical line, " Well, better wits have worn 
plain statute caps" The Roman mechanics and lower classes also wore 
caps. The patricians and higher classes went with the head uncovered. 



" Coriolanus." 317 

extreme contempt. From Sir Francis Bacon such scorn of 
trade and labor would not have been noticeably strange ; but, 
even from him, we find it puzzling that such contempt for 
the producing classes — who, certainly, are the source of all 
the luxuries of the rich — should have reached the point of 
loathing. But, whether the author of these plays was Sir 
Francis Bacon or William Shakespeare, we always find him 
treating the working man, whether of England, France, Italy, 
Bohemia, or Fairy-land, with unvarying detestation. If 
Lord Bacon was the author of the Shakespeare plays, the least 
we can say of him in this connection is, that he was a hard, 
arrogant, proud-hearted, ungenerous, and brutal noble; if 
William Shakespeare, the wool-dealer's son, then he was a 
base, cringing parasite, devoid of all the estimable sympathies 
of parentage and class, and the veriest pander of all poets to 
the really inferior conditions of wealth and worldly station. 
He has taken the god which was born in his bosom for im- 
mortal purposes, subjugated it to his animal supremacy, and 
thrust its celestial head under the mire. He can not be ex- 
cused on the score of the habits and prejudices of his period. 
Mortals of all times who have been commissioned with poetic 
fire have held it in noble trust for the elevation of the people, 
but Shakespeare seems to have employed his genius mainly 
to tread upon the unfortunate of the human race. 

LEGAL ACQUIREMENTS OF SHAKESPEARE. 

"In this drama, in which," says Lord Campbell, "we 
should not expect to find any allusion to English juridical pro- 
ceedings, Shakespeare shows that he must have been present 
before some tiresome, testy, choleric judges at Stratford, War- 
wick, or Westminster — whom he evidently intends to depict 
and satirize — like my distinguished friend Charles Dickens, 
in his famous report of the trial, Bardell vs. Pickwick, before 
Mr. Justice Stareleigh, for breach of promise of marriage. 
Menenius (Act II, Scene 1), in reproaching the two tribunes, 
Sicinius and Brutus, with their own offenses, which they for- 
get while they inveigh against Coriolanus, says : 

4 You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between 
an orange- wife and a posset-seller, and then re-journ the controversy of 



318 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

three pence to a second day of audience. When yon are hearing a matter 
between party and party, if you chance to be pinched with the colic, you 
make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and 

in roaring for a pot, dismiss the controversy pleading more entangled 

by your hearing ; all the peace you make in their cause is, calling both the 
parties knaves.' 

" Shakespeare here mistakes the duties of the tribune for 
those of the prcetor ; but, in truth, he was recollecting with 
disgust what he had himself witnessed in his own country. 
Nowadays all English judges are exemplary for dispatch, 
patience, and good temper ! ! ! " 



" Titus A ndronicus? 319 



CHAPTEE XXXIII. 



The tragedies of " Titus Andronicus " and of " Pericles " 
are usually compiled among the last of the Shakespearean 
dramas, not that they are esteemed the most matured and 
worthy, but because it has been seriously doubted whether 
they are entitled to be classed among the works of the mind 
which produced "Hamlet," "Othello," "Macbeth," and 
"Lear." Their position in the series, therefore, instead of 
being originally one of honor, was rather one of suspicion, 
which shrewdly allotted to them the last place in the early 
compilations, in order, perhaps, that they might be handily 
switched off in case the public voice should decide against 
them. The general judgment, however — stimulated, no doubt, 
to some extent, by the desire to cling to everything which 
might have come from Shakespeare — has left them in the list 
of his collected works. Instead, therefore, of being ranked 
among the last of our poet's productions, it is pretty generally 
agreed they ought to appear among his first. Moreover, it is 
largely believed among critics that " Titus Andronicus " was 
his very first play ; and that both that and " Pericles " were 
only his work in part. My idea is that, when Shakespeare, 
emerging from his position as a hanger-on at the playhouses, 
began to work as a producer for the stage, he tried his hand 
first at dramatic adaptation, and, finding some crude and un- 
accepted plays within his reach, he chose two or three which 
he deemed the best, and built upon them. 

" Titus Andronicus," " Pericles," and perhaps " A "Warn- 
ing to Fair Women," recently spoken of by Payne Collier as 



320 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

having been published anonymously in 1599, may therefore 
be regarded as youthful and inexperienced productions, par- 
taking of all the errors of the school in which they had been 
formed, and which school our author's prestige and practice 
were not yet great enough to overturn. Flashes of power and 
strains of melody relieve, with frequency, the deformities of 
the original productions, and as the striving poet breasted 
these vexed tides, guided alone by his reliant genius, he learned 
his masterful and all-commanding stroke. 

The "Trial Table" of Furnival declares "Titus Androni- 
cus " to have been an old play, and fixes its date at 1588. This 
makes it the immediate successor of the poem of " Yenus and 
Adonis." Sir Francis Bacon, however, was nearly four years 
older than Shakespeare, and what might have been forgiven 
to our bard at the age of twenty-four would hardly have been 
excusable in Bacon at twenty-eight; or, indeed, to Shake- 
speare either at the period of life when he wrote " Romeo and 
Juliet." Moreover, Bacon must be credited with having 
achieved a greater literary maturity at the age of twenty- 
eight than could have been acquired by Shakespeare at the 
same age, either from the latter s opportunities for study, or 
against the distracting obstacles rising from the seething ocean 
of London lower life. 

" Titus Andronicus" is an improbable and voluntary hor- 
ror, conceived originally by some coarse and cruel mind, 
which took a perverted pleasure in laving itself in blood and 
in familiarizing its auditors with a yearning for atrocity and 
mnrder. Titus, a Roman general, who combines the qualities 
of both Brutus and Yirginius, returns to Rome after a bril- 
liant series of battles, conveying with him, in the train of his 
captives, Tamora, the Queen of the Goths, and her three sons, 
Alarbus, Chiron, and Demetrius. Titus himself has been the 
father of twenty-five sons, twenty-one of whom have fallen in 
battle, the dead body of the last of which he brings home 
with him on this occasion. The four remaining living sons 
accompany him in this triumph, and are by his side. One of 
these, Lucius, demands in the first scene that " the proudest 
prisoner of the Goths " shall be hewed to pieces, as a sacrifice 
ad manes fratrum to his un buried brother, according to the 



" Titus A ndromcus" 321 

Roman custom of the time; whereupon Titus yields to them 
Tamora's eldest son, Alarbus, for that purpose. The people, 
in gratitude for the services of Titus, the Emperor having just 
died, desire to invest him with the vacant purple. The aged 
warrior, however, with a patriotic forbearance rejects the 
temptation and decides in favor of the Emperor's eldest son, 
Saturninus, and at the same time, by way of assimilating his 
own popularity with him, gives him the hand of Lavinia, his 
only daughter, in marriage. Saturninus accepts both the em- 
pire and the girl, whereupon Bassianus, the Emperor's second 
son, unexpectedly claims Lavinia as his betrothed, and draw- 
ing his sword bears her off the scene. He is supported by 
three of the sons of Titus, and Mutius, the fourth son, also tak- 
ing part with Bassianus, attempts to bar the way of Titus 
from Lavinia's rescue. Upon this the father, in a fit of rage, 
kills Mutius on the spot, and then demands of his other sons 
the immediate restoration of Lavinia to the young Emperor. 
Saturninus, however, having been suddenly smitten with the 
beauty of Tamora, rejects Lavinia, and takes the Gothic queen 
as substitute — a choice which old Titus, still governed by his 
loyalty, most sorrowfully consents to. In the second act, 
Titus gives a grand hunt, during which the two remaining 
sons of Tamora, at the instigation of Aaron, a Moor, who is 
the paramour of their mother, seize upon the person of Lavinia 
for themselves. Tamora, coming in, seconds this vile advice, 
and in her presence, and at her stimulation, the youths stab 
Bassianus, and cast him into a pit. Tamora then seeks to 
perform in like manner with her dagger upon Lavinia ; but 
her sons interfere, in order to carry out the more agreeable 
purpose previously suggested to them by Aaron. Tamora, 
after a moment's thought, yields to the congenial wickedness 
of this suggestion, and dispatches her offspring to the brutal 
task with — 

" But when ye have the honey yon desire, 
Let not this- wasp outlive us both to sting." 

The sons follow this unnatural counsel, but, by way of 
preventing Lavinia from becoming a witness against them, 
cut out her tongue that she may not expose them by speech, 
21 



322 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

and next cut off her hands that she may not betray them by 
writing. 

I think Shakespeare may be acquitted of the barbarity of 
this device, but he can not be excused the error of adopting 
it ; and, to my mind, an author who takes advantage of the 
trust reposed in him by the audience to wound their best 
feelings with unnecessary horrors is nearly as bad as the 
characters who perpetrate them. A writer should reach his 
climax by tolerable steps, and he is not justified in exercising 
his art so as to cause us to love a beautiful ideal, merely that 
he may torture it in our presence, any more than a boy has a 
right to expect us to honor him for his dexterity in driving 
pins through flies. We can bear to see the beautiful Fan tine 
cut off her golden tresses for money to feed her famishing 
Cosette, but when she is made to part with the laughing 
glory of her mouth, by selling to the traveling dentist her 
two upper front teeth, to obtain medicines for the suffering 
child, we can scarcely refrain from condemning Victor Hugo 
for such a wanton outrage on our sentiments — a cruelty 
which is rendered all the greater by the vast resources of 
his genius, and because he is enabled to inflict the wound 
upon us only through a violation of our confidence. There 
is no good end to be attained by making human nature look 
worse than it is, and, in my opinion, the author who conjures 
up impossible crimes to torture the heart of his confiding 
listeners comes in for a share of the condemnation due to 
such cruelties himself. 

But the horrors of the second act of " Andronicus " do not 
finish with the rape and mutilation of Lavinia. Aaron, who 
had suggested her violation, decoys two of the three remain- 
ing sons of Titus (Quintus and Martius) to the pit where 
Bassianus lies slain, with the view of searching it for game. 
The mouth of the pit being masked with boughs, Martius falls 
in, and Quintus, having given his hand to extricate his brother, 
is pulled down into the hole along with him. Having them 
thus snared (for the pit had been prearranged), Aaron brings 
in the Emperor and train, and charges the two live brothers 
in the pit with the murder of Bassianus, who lies dead at the 
bottom. Titus pleads in vain to be accepted as the surety 



" Titus A ndronicus? 323 

for his sons until their trial can come on ; but the Emperor 
refuses, and they are hurried off to prison. 

The monster Aaron next appears to Titus, now half be- 
reft of reason, pretending to bring a message from the Em- 
peror to the effect that if he or his old brother Marcus, or 
his last son Lucius, will, either of them, chop off a hand, 
Quintus and Martius shall be pardoned. There is a struggle, 
at once, between the two old men, and also between the duti- 
ful Lucius and his father, who shall make the sacrifice ; but 
Titus succeeds in first getting his left hand to the sword of 
Aaron, who eagerly strikes it off and carries it away. In a 
few minutes after, and before the scene is closed, a messen- 
ger enters bearing the heads of Quintus and Martius, which 
had been so bloodily redeemed, and Titus's own still smoking 
hand. 

Meb9. Worthy Andronicus, ill thou art repaid ; 

For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor, 
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons ; 
And here's thy hand in scorn to thee sent back. 

Lucius upon this concludes that it is time to fly, and he 
escapes from Rome for the purpose of gathering an army 
among the Goths, to depose the Emperor and redress his fa- 
ther's wrongs. 

In the next act the perpetrators of the outrages upon La- 
vinia are discovered by the device of giving her a staff, one end 
of which she puts into her mouth, and, guiding the other end 
with her stumps, writes the names of Chiron and Demetrius 
in the sand ; thus showing that the author had unnecessarily 
cut out her tongue and wantonly chopped off her hands, 
Titus, upon this, goes mad, and while in this state affronts the 
Emperor with sardonic messages, for which he would have 
been put to death but for the timely news that Lucius is ap- 
proaching Home with a great army. This danger induces 
the base Emperor to temporize with Titus, and Tamora finally 
succeeds in persuading the broken old man to entreat Lucius 
to enter the city and to share a feast. Titus, however, has 
sanity enough left to divine their purpose, and, though he 
consents to the proposal, succeeds in securing the persons of 



324 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Chiron and Demetrius in advance, and slays them in his own 
house, by cutting their throats over a bowl, which Lavinia 
with a logical vengeance holds between her stumps. Their 
bodies are then made into a pasty, upon which their mother 
is ignorantly made to feed during the repast that follows. 
After Tamora has surfeited herself upon the horrid dish, Titus 
informs her that she has been munching the bodies of her own 
sons. 

During the progress of the banquet (which is held in a 
pavilion open to the observation of the people and the troops), 
and just before this horrible revelation is made to Tamora, 
Titus mercifully stabs Lavinia, in the Yirginius fashion. He 
next kills Tamora ; the Emperor then kills him ; whereupon 
Lucius revenges his father by killing the Emperor. This 
holocaust of murder finally winds up by the execution of the 
demon Aaron; after which Lucius takes tranquil possession 
of the throne. The following is the full scene of these closing 
horrors, as taken from the text : 

Act V, Scene 3. 

Enter Titus, dressed like a cook. Lavinia veiled, young Lucius, now Gen- 
eral, and others. Titus places the dishes on the table. 

Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord ; welcome, dread queen ; 
"Welcome, ye warlike Goths ; welcome, Lncius ; 
And welcome, all: although the cheer be poor, 
'Twill fill your stomachs ; please you eat of it. 

Sat. Why art thou thus attired, Andronicus ? 

Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well, 

To entertain your highness, and your empress. 

Tam. We are beholden to you, good Andronicus. 

Tit. And if your highness knew my heart, you were. 
My lord the emperor, resolve me this ; 
Was it well done of rash Virginius, 
To slay his daughter with his own right hand, 
Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflow'r'd ? 

Sat. It was, Andronicus. 

Tit. Your reason, mighty lord! 

Sat. Because the girl should not survive her shame, 
And by her presence still renew his sorrows. 

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual : 
A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant, 
For me, most wretched, to perform the like ; — 



" Titus Andromcus" 325 

Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee ; [He Mils Lavinia. 

And, with thy shame, thy father's sorrow die ! 
Sat. What hast thou done, unnatural and unkind ? 
Tit. KUl'd her, for whom my tears have made me blind. 

I was as woeful as Virginius was : 

And have a thousand times more cause than he 

To do this outrage ; — and it is now done. 
Sat. "What, was she ravish'd? tell, who did the deed. 
Tit. Will't please you eat? will't please your highness feed? 
Tam. "Why hast thou slain thine only daughter thus? 
Tit. ISTot I ; 'twas Chiron, and Demetrius : 

They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue, 

And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong. 
Sat. Go, fetch them hither to us presently. 
Tit. "Why, there they are both, baked in that pie ; 

Whereof their mother daintily hath fed, 

Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred, 

'Tis true, 'tis true ; witness my knife's sharp point. 

[Killing Tamoea. 
Sat. Die, fanatic wretch, for this accursed deed. [Killing Titus. 
Luo. Can the son's eye behold his father bleed ? 

There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed. 
{Kills Satukninus. A great tumult. The people in confusion disperse. 
Makctts, Lucius, and their partisans ascend the steps oefore Titus's 
house. 

The mind of Shakespeare is manifest in the above lan- 
guage, though with a less full and evidently much less prac- 
ticed strength than in any other of his dramatic works. 

Knight and Collier unhesitatingly ascribe the authorship 
of " Titus Andronicus " to Shakespeare ; Coleridge disputes 
the presence of Shakespeare except in certain passages ; and 
Oervinus doubts its Shakespearean authenticity altogether, 
keenly observing that, whatever may be the truth among all 
this variety of opinion, " there are ^ few who value Shake- 
speare, who would not wish to have it proved that this piece 
did not proceed from our poet's pen." Further on, the same 
reasoner observes : 

" The whole, indeed, sounds less like the early work of a 
great genius than the production of a mediocre mind, which 
in a certain self-satisfied security felt itself already at its apex. 
But fc that which, in our opinion, decides against its Shake- 
spearean authorship is the coarseness of the characterization, 



326 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

the lack of the most ordinary probability in the actions, and 
the unnatural motives assigned to them. . . . He who com- 
pares the most wicked of all the characters which Shakespeare 
depicted with this Aaron, who cursed ' the day in which he 
did not some notorious ill,' will feel that in the one some rem- 
nant of humanity is ever preserved, while in the other l a 
ravenous tiger ' commits unnatural deeds and speaks unnatural 
language." 

The point which we derive from this steaming vat of 
blood, horror, incongruity, and incredible consequence is, 
that such a treatise could not have been conjured as a picture 
of possible human events from the cool, philosophic, exact, 
and rational mind of Sir Francis Bacon. He was a man of 
method, of reason, of logic, and of tranquil development, and 
he could no more have thought out or have countenanced 
such absurd monstrosities than Newton could have conceived 
" Barbarossa," or Descartes have written " Bombastes Furi- 
oso." Shakespeare of these two undoubtedly was the man who 
adapted and produced this play, and in this connection I have 
only to add the clever remark of a celebrated commentator, 
while discussing the authenticity of another disputed perform- 
ance of our author, to wit, that if the lines attributed to him 
in " Titus Andronicus " be not his, to what other man of his 
time could they possibly be given. 

There are but one or two other points in this play which I 
desire to call attention to as bearing upon the Baconian the- 
ory, and as touching (though but slightly) the question of 
Shakespeare's unremitting contempt for the masses of the peo- 
ple. As I have been extreme in my declarations upon this 
point, I desire to submit to the reader every line I find which, 
seems, even in the remotest degree, to support argument on 
the other side. If there are any not noticed in these chapters, 
it is because they have escaped my observation. 

The first illustration occurs in Act V, Scene 3, immedi- 
ately after the wholesale killing of Lavinia, Tamora, Titus, and 
Saturninus has taken place. 

A great tumult is the immediate result. The crowd, con- 
sisting of people of all ranks of society, separate in great con- 
fusion, or, to use the explanatory language at the head of the 



"Pericles, Prince of Tyre? 327 

scene, " the people disperse in terror." To the numbers which 
remain, and which consist mostly of patricians, senators, and 
men of rank, Marcus, the brother of Titus Andronicus, thus 
speaks in the interest of Lucius' s elevation to the throne : 

Maecus. You sad-faced men, people, and sons of Rome, 
By uproar sever'd like a flight of fowl, 
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, 
O ! let me teach you how to knit again 
This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf, 
These broken limbs again into one body. 

This speech is favorably responded to by a Roman lord, 
whereupon Lucius, after a little more aristocratic pressure, 
modestly accepts : 

Lucius. Thanks, gentle Romans ; may I govern so, 

To heal Rome's harms and wipe away her woe ! 
But, gentle people, give me aim awhile. 

It will be observed, however, that these speeches to " the 
People" and "sons of Rome" are addressed to them by 
politicians who are beseeching their common suffrages for a 
kingly crown. 

I place no importance upon the above extracts as a diver- 
sion of the argument, but I give them rather as a curiosity, 
as they are the first instances, in the twenty-nine plays I have 
thus far reviewed, in which Shakespeare has allowed himself 
to allude to the People without some voluntary prefix of dis- 
respect. 



" PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYKE." 

This play contributes little, if anything, to our special 
inquiries, and only demands a mere mention as we pass along. 
It is classed with " Titus Andronicus " by the commentators, 
as being of very doubtful authenticity, all of them rating it as 
one of our poet's earliest performances, Dryden placing it as 
his very first. Knight says that the first edition of "Peri- 
cles" appeared in 1609, under the title of "The late and 
much-admired play called Pericles, Prince of Tyre, with the 



328 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

true relation of the whole historic adventures and fortunes of 
the said prince, and also the no less strange and worthy acci- 
dents in the birth and life of his daughter Marina ; as it hath 
been divers and sundry times acted by his Majestie's servants 
at the Globe, on the Bank side. By William Shakespeare." 

The story was of very great antiquity, having appeared in 
the " G-esta Bomanorum " five hundred years ago, and was 
first done into English by an author named Grower, in 1554. 
From Grower's poem the play was probably constructed, the 
author of it, whoever he was, welding together its incongrui- 
ties of time and scene by using old Gower as a Chorus, after 
the Shakespearean fashion. Gower is, in this way, introduced 
at the commencement of every act and even in the course of 
an act, with some of the weakest doggerel rhymes that can be 
conceived of, hardly one of which can be reasonably attributed 
to Shakespeare; unless, indeed, he was imitating that mode 
of the familiar narrative rhyme of the time. Nearly all the 
critics are against the authenticity of " Pericles " ; but I find 
expressions in it — nay, whole scenes — which can not, in my 
judgment, be attributed to any other hand than that of our 
poet. I should decide the following two lines to be Shake- 
speare's : 

" Kings are earth's gods : in vice their law's their will ; 
And if Jove stray, who dare say Jove doth ill? " — Act i", Scene 1. 

Also, the lines of Pericles to Marina : 

" Yet dost thou look 
Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling 
Extremity out of act." 

Which last reminds us of his previous expression in "The 
Twelfth Night " 1 

" She sat like Patience on a monument 
Smiling at grief." 

I should also adopt, as genuine, the scene between Peri- 
cles and the fishermen, in the second act; also the scene be- 
tween Boult and the Bawd in the fourth act, and, certainly, 
the following from the third act : 



"Pericles, Prince of Tyre? 329 

Act III, Scene 1. 
Enter Peeioles, on a ship at sea. 

Fee. Thou God of this great vast, rebuke these surges, 

Which wash both heaven and hell ; and thou, that hast 
Upon the winds command, bind them in brass, 
Having call'd them from the deep ! O, still thy deaf 'ning, 
Thy dreadful thunders ; gently quench thy nimble, 
Sulphurous flashes! — how, Lychorida, 
How does my queen ? — Thou storm, thou ! venomously 
Wilt thou spit all thyself? — The seaman's whistle 
Is as a whisper in the ears of death, 
Unheard. — Lychorida! — Lucina, O 
Divinest patroness, and midwife, gentle 
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity 
Aboard our dancing boat ; make swift the pangs 
Of my queen's travails ! — Now, Lychorida — 
Enter Lyohoeida, with an infant. 

Lyo. Here is a thing 

Too young for such a place, who, if it had 

Conceit, would die as I am like to do. 

Take in your arms this piece of your dead queen. 

Pee. How ! how, Lychorida ! 

Lyo. Patience, good sir ; do not assist the storm, 1 
Here's all that is left living of your queen, — 
A little daughter ; for the sake of it, 
Be manly, and take comfort, 

Pee. Now, mild may be thy life ! 

For a more blust'rous birth had never babe : 
Quiet and gentle thy conditions ! 
For thou'rt the rudeliest welcomed to this world 
That e'er was prince's child. Happy what follows ! 
Thou hast as chiding a nativity, 
As fire, air, water, earth, and heaven can make, 
To herald thee from the womb : even at the first, 
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit, 
With all thou canst find here. JSTow the good gods 
Throw their best eyes upon it ! 

Enter two Sailors. 
1 Sail. What courage, sir ? God save you. 
Pee. Courage enough : I do not fear the flaw : 

It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the love 

1 Boats. "You do assist the storm." — "Tempest," Act I, Scene 1. 



330 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

Of this poor infant, this fresh-new seafarer, 
I would it would he quiet. 

1 Sail. Slack the bolins there ; thou wilt not, wilt thou ? Blow and 
split thyself. 8 

2 Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy billow kiss the moon, 
I care not. 

1 Sail. Sir, your queen must overboard ; the sea works high, the wind 
is loud, and will not lie till the ship be cleared of the dead. 
Pee. That's your superstition. 

1 Sail. Pardon us, sir ; with us at sea it still hath been observed ; and 
we are strong astern. Therefore briefly yield her ; for she must over- 
board straight. 

Pee. Be it as you think meet. Most wretched queen ! 
Lto. Here she lies, sir. 

Pee. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear ; 
No light, no fire : the unfriendly elements 
Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time 
To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight 
Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze ; 
Where, for a monument upon thy bones, 
And aye-remaining lamps, the belching whale 
And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, 
Lying with simple shells. 

In my judgment, only Shakespeare could have written 
these last nine lines. 

Gervinus, in commenting upon this play, says : " We should, 
therefore, prefer to assume that Shakespeare appropriated the 
piece soon after its origin, about 1590. At the time the play 
was printed with Shakespeare's name, in 1602, it may, per- 
haps, have been reprepared for Burbage's acting, and through 
this it may have acquired its new fame. That at that time it 
excited fresh sensation is evident from the fact that the per- 
formance of the piece gave rise to a novel, composed in 1608, 
by George Wilkens, entitled ' The true history of the play of 
Pericles, as it was lately represented by the worthy and an- 
cient poet, John Gower.' In this publication we read the 
Iambic verses and passages of the piece transposed into prose, 
but in a manner which allows us to infer that the play was 
then reprinted in a more perfect form than that in which we 

a " Blow till thou burst thy wind, if room enough." — " Tempest," Act 
I, Scene 1. 



"Pericles, Prince of Tyre" 331 

now read it. Shakespeare's pen — so easily is it to be distin- 
guished — is recognized in this prose version in expressions 
which are not to be found in the drama, but which must have 
been used upon the stage. When Pericles (Act III, Scene 1) 
receives the child born in the tempest, he says to it, 

4 Thou'rt the ruddiest welcomed to this world 
That e'er was prince's child.' 

To this the novel adds the epithet, 

' Poor inch of nature.' 

Merely four words, in which every reader must recognize our 
poet. We, therefore, probably read this drama now in a form 
which it neither bore when Shakespeare put his hand to it for 
the first nor for the last time." 3 

With this recognition of Shakespeare in the above four 
words, I heartily agree, for no such flower could have blos- 
somed from any other stock. 

3 "Shakespeare's Commentaries," by Gervinus, pp. Ill, 112. Scrib- 
ner's edition, New York. 



33 2 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 



CHAPTEE XXXIY. 



It requires from a reviewer the exercise of great self- 
restraint, when passing through the intellectual splendors of 
such a composition as " Macbeth," to withstand the tempta- 
tion to dwell upon its glories, while traveling along the com- 
paratively narrow line of an allotted path ; nevertheless, there 
is but one true way to perform a duty, and that is to adhere 
strictly to the boundaries set for ourselves at the beginning, 
and not be drawn aside by allurements which may be yielded 
to only by the general critic. It need not surprise the reader, 
therefore, if this great production of our poet, which is sug- 
gestive of such commanding thoughts, should contribute so 
little to the scope of our review. 

Mr. Thomas Kenny, who has written most ably on the 
subject of " Macbeth," * characterizes it as " a drama of gigan- 
tic crime and terror, relieved by the most magnificent im- 
aginative expression," yet marked with great simplicity of 
general design. The date of the production of the piece is set 
by Furnival at 1605-6 ; and " we may take it for granted," 
says Kenny, " that it was written in the time of James I, who 
ascended the throne March, 1603, as it contains an evident 
allusion to that monarch in Act IY, Scene 1, and also a com- 
plimentary reference to him in another part. The material 
for the play was found by Shakespeare in Holinshed's ' His- 
tory of Scotland,' where the story of Macbeth is told, at page 

1 "The Life and Genius of Shakespeare," by Thomas Kenny. Long- 
man & Co., London, 1864. 



"Macbeth! 1 333 

168." There, Macbeth and Duncan are represented to have 
been cousins ; the first a valiant gentleman, but of a cruel dis- 
position, and the latter " so soft and gentle in his nature that 
the people wished the inclinations and manners of the two to 
have been so tempered and interchangeably shared betwixt 
them, that where the one had too much of clemency, and the 
other of cruelty, the main virtue betwixt these two extremities 
might have reigned by indifferent partition in them both." 
Some light is afforded as to the date in which this tragedy is 
laid, by James Logan's magnificently illustrated folio on the 
" Clans of the Scottish Highlands," in which it is stated that 
Macduff overcame Macbeth in 1056. See Yol. I (published 
by Willis & Sothern, 136 Strand, London). The play all 
along keeps close to the line of Holinshed, varying from it in 
scarcely any main particular, except in the non-appearance, in 
the banquet scene, of the murdered Banquo's ghost. In treat- 
ing of the second act, Kenny says : " There is in the literature 
of all ages no scene of pure natural terror so true, so vivid, so 
startling as the murder of Duncan, with all its wonderful 
accompaniments. Through the magic art of the poet we lose 
our detestation of the guilty authors of the deed, in the ab- 
sorbing sympathy with which we share their breathless dis- 
quietude." 

The first illustration I find in the text exhibiting the ten- 
dency of Shakespeare's mind for almost religious homage to 
the sacred person of a king occurs in Act II, Scene 3, on the 
discovery of Duncan's murder : 

Mao. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! 
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
The Lord? s anointed temple, and stolen thence 
The life 0' the building. 

The next illustration comes in the incantation scene in the 
fourth act, and it may be taken as an evidence of the Catholic 
bitterness of our poet against the crucifiers of the Saviour. 
Among the most fell ingredients of the caldron which the 
Third Witch contributes to the hell-broth is 

" Liver of blaspheming Jew." 



334 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Next to this comes the following ascription of supernatural 
and almost godlike powers to a kingly ancestor of James II, 
in being able, by a mere touch of his anointed hand, to cure 
the terrible disease known as the king's evil. In this homage, 
however, it must be admitted that our poet shared his super- 
stition with the public ; but a mind like Shakespeare's might 
well have been superior to such blind belief. 

Act IV, Scene 3. 

England. — A Room in the English King's Palace. Present — Malcolm 

and Macduff. 

Enter a Doctor. 

Mat,, (to Doctor). Comes the king forth, I pray you ? 

Doct. Ay, sir, there are a crew of wretched souls, 
That stay his cure : their malady convinces 
The great assay of art ; but, at his touch, 
Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand, 
They presently amend. 

Mat,. I thank you, doctor. [Exit Dootob. 

Macd. What's the disease he means ? 

Mal. 'Tis call'd the evil : 

A most miraculous work in this good king : 
Which often, since my here-remain in England, 
I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, 
Himself best knows: but strangely -visited people, 
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, 
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; 
Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, 9 
Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken, 
To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, 
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ; 
And sundry blessings hang about his throne, 
That speak him full of grace. 8 

2 The image was, doubtless, suggested to the poet's mind by the little 
customary Catholic medal which he, in common with all true believers, 
doubtless wore about his neck. 

3 " The superstition of touching for king's evil continued down to the 
time of George III, and Dr. Johnson tells us that he himself was touched 
for the evil by Queen Anne. He was quite a child at the time, but re- 
membered her Majesty as being a solemn-looking lady, wearing a black 
silk gown and diamonds. His mother, who carried him to London to be 



"Macbeth." 335 

It is said by Davenant that, in recognition of this fulsome 
compliment, King James sent Shakespeare a letter of acknowl- 
edgment in his own handwriting. Kenny closes his remarks 
upon " Macbeth " by saying that " some critics claim for it 
the distinction of being the poet's greatest work. We believe 
that judgments of this description can only be adopted with 
many qualifications. ' Macbeth ' wants the subtile life which 
distinguishes some of the other dramatic conceptions of Shake- 
speare. Its action is plain, rapid, downright ; and its larger 
form of expression seems now and then somewhat constrained 
and artificial. But it was evidently written in the very pleni- 
tude of the poet's powers, and in its wonderful scenic gran- 
deur it must for ever occupy a foremost place among the 
creations of his majestic imagination." 

The Baconians find in this tragedy some passages which, 
they think, are similar to those previously expressed by Sir 
Francis Bacon in his philosophical works, thus indicating a 
unity of authorship for both. The following is one of these 
assumed parallels, the first extract of which is taken from 
Bacon's " Essay on Building " : 

" He that builds a fair house upon an ill seat committeth 
himself to prison ; nor do I reckon that an ill seat only, where 
the air is unwholesome, but likewise where it is unequal." 

Now comes the assumed parallel in " Macbeth," Act I, 
Scene 6 : 

Duncan. This castle hath a pleasant seat — the air 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses. 

I cheerfully leave the force of this proof to the judgment 
of the reader, and also, with equal willingness, refer to the 

touched, had acted on the advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyn, a phy- 
sician of Lichfield." — Boswell's " Life of Johnson," vol. i, p. 25. 

In the "London Gazette," No. 2180, appears this advertisement: 
"Whitehall, Oct. 8, 1683. His Majesty has graciously appointed to heal 
for the evil upon Frydays, and has commanded his physicians and chiru- 
geans to attend at the office approved by the prayers in the Meuse, upon 
Thursdays, in the afternoon and to give out tickets." On March 30, 1712, 
Queen Anne touched two hundred persons for evil. Dean Swift firmly- 
believed in royalty's curing the evil by the imposition of hands. 



336 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

same judgment the following remarks of Lord Chief Justice 
Campbell upon the evidences to be found in " Macbeth " of 



THE LEGAL ACQUIREMENTS OF SHAKESPEARE. 

" In perusing this unrivaled tragedy," says his lordship, 
" I am so carried away by the intense interest which it excites 
that I fear I may have passed over legal phrases and allusions 
which I ought to have noticed ; but the only passage I find 
with the juridical mark upon it in ' Macbeth ' is in Act TV, 
Scene 1, where, the hero exulting in the assurance from the 
weird sisters that he can receive harm from ' none of woman 
born,' he, rather in a lawyer-like manner, resolves to provide 
an indemnity, if the worst should come to the worst : 

' But yet I'll make assurance doubly sure, 
And take a bond of fate ' ; 

— without much considering what should be the penalty of 
the bond, or how he was to enforce the remedy, if the condi- 
tion should be broken. 

He immediately after goes on in the same legal jargon ta 

say: 

* Our high-placed Macbeth 
Shall live the lease of nature.' 

But, unluckily for Macbeth, the lease contained no covenants 
for title or quiet enjoyment : there were likewise forfeitures 
to be incurred by the tenant — with a clause of reentry — and 
consequently he was speedily ousted." 

So much for Lord Campbell's observations on " Macbeth.' ' 



This play was probably written in 1609 ; and the plot is 
traceable to the " Decameron " of Boccaccio. According to 
Holinshed, whose English history is the source of much of 
Shakespeare's work, Cymbeline began his reign in the nine- 
teenth year of that of Augustus Caesar, and the play opens 
in the twenty-fourth year of that reign. Holinshed reports- 



" Cymbeliner ^37 

him to have reigned thirty-five years in all, leaving at his death 
two sons, Guiderius and Arviragus, upon whose fortunes a por- 
tion of the action turns. These sons were stolen from the king 
in their infancy by an old knight named Belarius, in revenge 
for having been banished by the king on an unjust suspicion 
of his complicity with the Roman enemy. He carried the 
boys to Wales, where he lived with them in a cave, and 
trained them to hunting and other manly exercises. This 
deprivation left the king with an only daughter, Imogen, who 
then became heiress of his crown, it being believed the stolen 
boys were dead. The king, after a long period of decorous 
sorrow, married a widow (a feeble copy of Lady Macbeth), 
who brought with her to the family an only son, named Clo- 
ten, a coarse, drunken, vicious, depraved creature, inheriting 
nearly all possible vices from his scheming and unprincipled 
mother. The new queen aimed, naturally enough, at the 
hand of the crown-princess for her son, but, when she had 
obtained the king's consent to the match, it was suddenly 
discovered that Imogen had been secretly married to a gen- 
tleman named Leonatus Posthumus. This leads to the ban- 
ishment of Posthumus, and to the subsequent elopement of 
Imogen to find him. This sketch of the story is sufficient to 
enable the reader to appreciate our illustrations. The first of 
these presents itself in Act III, Scene 3, where we find Bela- 
rius seated with Guiderius and Arviragus, now grown to 
men's estate, in front of a cave in a mountainous country in 
Wales. The old man has, to this moment, kept the young 
princes ignorant of their noble birth, having renamed them 
respectively Polydore and Cadwal ; and he is now discoursing 
with them upon the incidents of the day's hunt, preliminary 
to dispatching them again to the mountains to renew the 
chase. When they are gone, our poet embraces the oppor- 
tunity for Belarius to inculcate upon the British mind the 
innate and instinctive royalty of kings : 

Bel. How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature 1 

These hoys know little they are sons to the king ; 
Nor Cyinbeline dreams that they are alive. 
They think they are mine : and, though trained up thus meanly 
r the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit 
22 



338 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The roofs of palaces ; and nature prompts them, 
In simple and low things, to prince it much 
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore — 
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
The king his father called G-uiderius, — Jove ! 
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell 
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
Into ray story : say, — " Thus mine enemy fell ; 
And thus I set my foot on his neck " — even then 
The princely Mood flows in his cheek, he sweats, 
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture 
That acts my words. The younger brother, Oadwal, 
(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure 
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more 
His own conceiving. Hark! the game is rous'd ! — 
O Cymbeline ! heaven, and my conscience, knows, 
Thou didst unjustly banish me : whereon, 
At three, and two years old, I stole these babes ; 
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as 
Thou reft'st me of my lands. Euriphile, 
Thou wast their nurse ; they took thee for their mother, 
And every day do honour to her grave. [Exit. 

Act III, Scene 3. 

Imogen next appears before the empty cave, disguised in 
boy's clothes, traveling in search of the port of Milford Ha- 
ven, where the letter of Leonatus has informed her she will 
find him. 

Perceiving the cave, she enters it ; but no sooner has she 
done so than Belarius and the two brothers return, and she is 
discovered. A beautiful scene of spontaneous and instinctive 
affection between Imogen and her brothers (though all uncon- 
scious of their kinship) then ensues, and she consents, for the 
while, to remain under their protection, reporting herself to 
be a page, and giving her name as Fidele. 

She is pursued by the ruffian Cloten, who traces her to the 
neighborhood. Unluckily for himself, however, Cloten falls 
in with Guiderius, and, being insolent, a quarrel ensues, in 
which Cloten is slain. 

Enter Guidebitts with Cloten's head. 
Gui. This Cloten was a fool ; an empty purse, — 
There was no money in ? t : not Hercules 



"Cymbeline? 339 

Could have knock'd oat his brains, for he had none : 

Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne 

My head, as I do his. 
Bel. What hast thou done? 

Gut. I am perfect, what : cut off one Cloten's head, 

Son to the queen, after his own report ; 

"Who calFd me traitor, mountaineer ; and swore, 

With his own single hand he'd take us in, 

Displace our heads, where (thank the gods !) they grow, 

And set them on Lud's town. 
Bel. We are all undone. 

Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to lose, 

But, that he swore to take, our lives? The law 

Protects not us : then why should we be tender 

To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ; 

Play judge and executioner, all himself. 

Act IV, Scene 2. , 

The indignant young men then retire, whereupon Belarius 
again soliloquizes : 

Bel. O thou goddess, 

Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st 
In these two princely boys! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, 
Not wagging his sweet head : and yet as rough, 
Their royal blood eiichqfed, as the rud'st wind, 
That^by the top doth take the mountain pine 
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder 
That an invisible instinct should frame them 
To royalty unlearn 1 d; honour untaught; 
Civility not seen from other : valour, 
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
As if it had been sow'd ! Yet still it's strange, 
What Cloten's being here to us portends, 
Or what his death will bring us. 

Re-enter Guidebitjs. 
Gui. Where's my brother? 

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, 
In embassy to his mother ; his body's hostage 
For its return. 

While this has been going on, Imogen, being weary at heart, 
has drunk a potion perfidiously given to her by the Queen, 
but which, though meant by the latter to be a poison, turns 



340 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

out to be only a powerful narcotic. Its real faculty was to pro- 
duce a trance which simulated death, as in the case of Juliet. 
It had this effect upon Imogen, who is found, a little while 
afterward, by Arviragus, lying apparently dead upon the 
sward. 

Re-enter Aevieagus, tearing Imogen as dead. 

Bel. Look, here he eomes, 

And brings the dire occasion in his arms, 

Of what we blame him for! 
Aev. The bird is dead, 

That we have made so much on. I had rather 

Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 

To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch, 

Than have seen this. 
Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily ! 

My brother wears thee not the one half so well, 

As when thou grew'st thyself. 

Aev. With fairest flowers, 

"Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack 
The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor 
The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath : the ruddock would 
With charitable bill, (O bill, sore shaming 
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument !) bring thee all this; 
Tea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers"are none, 
To winter-ground thy corse. 

Gui. Pr'ythee have done : 

And do not play in wench-like words with that 
♦ Which is so serious. Let us bury him, 

And not protract with admiration what 
Is now due debt. — To the grave. 

Aev. Say, where shall's lay him ? 

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. 

Aev. Be it so : 

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the ground, 
As once to our mother ; use like note, and words, 
Save that EuripMle must oe Fidele. 

Gin. Cadwal, 

I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with thee : 



"Cymbelzne." 341 

For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 
Than priests and fanes that lie. 

Belarius hereupon, seeing that the boys are about to bury 
Imogen on terms of equality with the beheaded prince, inter- 
poses, and volunteers honors to the dead man's rank in the 
following servile manner : 

Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less : for Cloten 
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys : 
And, though he came our enemy, remember, 
He was paid for that : though mean and mighty, rotting 
Together, have one dust ; yet reverence 
(That angel of the world) doth make distinction 
Of place Hween high and low. Our foe was princely ; 
And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
Yet bury him as a prince. 

These expressions of groveling homage to mere rank in 
the mouth of a worthy character like Belarius, invested, as 
that rank was, in the body of an utter beast and ruffian, as 
the speaker knew Cloten to be, show an extent of base cring- 
ing and moral abasement to mere worldly station, as con- 
trasted with the respect due that u pale primrose and azured 
hare-bell, pure Fidele," which is absolutely painful. It is the 
very worst and lowest specimen of the abjectness of royal 
worship that has yet appeared to us in Shakespeare, and so 
shocks our better sentiments that we can hardly refrain from 
hoping, in excuse, that the poet was well paid for it. 

Indeed, Gruiderius protests against the old man's senti- 
ments by saying to his brother, as he points to the hulk of 
Cloten : 

Pray you, fetch him hither. 

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, 

When neither is alive. 
Aev. If you'll go fetch him, 

We'll say our song the whilst. — Brother, begin. 

[Exit Belaeitjs. 
Gui. Nay, Oadwal, we must lay his head to the east ; 

My father hath a reason for't. 
Aev. 'Tis true. 

Gui. Come on then, and remove him. 

This discrimination in favor of the headless trunk of Cloten 
is all the more offensive because the boys had thought Fidele 



342 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

to be good enough to lay beside their (supposed) mother, Eu- 
riphile. 

The illustrations which follow bear likewise upon Shake- 
speare's favorite discrimination against a common person for a 
lord. The first of these occurs in a field of battle in Britain, 
where Leonatus, having come in with the Roman forces from 
Italy, changes his clothes in order to fight for his country : 

Leon. Therefore, good heavens, 

Hear patiently my purpose ; I'll disrobe me 
Of these Italian weeds, and snit myself 
As does a Briton peasant: so I'll fight 
Against the part I come with ; so I'll die 
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life 
Is, every breath, a death : and thus, unknown, 
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men Mow 
More valour in me than my habits show. 
Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me ! 
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin 
The fashion, less without, and more within. 

Act V, Scene 1. 

In the following scene he fights in the thick of the battle 
with Iachimo, an Italian knight, who has slandered Imogen. 
He disarms and leaves him, whereupon Iachimo says : 

Iach. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom 

Takes off my manhood : I have belied a lady, 

The princess of this country, and the air on't 

Revengingly enfeebles me ; or, could this carl, 

A very drudge of nature^s, have subdu'd me, 

In my profession? Knighthoods and honours, borne 

As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 

If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 

This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds 

Is that we scarce are men, and you are gods. 

Belarius afterward, in relating the exploit of Leonatus 
before the court, thus extols the strange courage of the sup- 
posed peasant : 

Bel. I never saw 

Such noble fury in so poor a thing, 
Such precious deeds in one that promised nought 
But beggary and poor looks. 



" Cymbelzne." 343 

The two following illustrations, though not of much force, 
are entitled to our notice. The first illustrates the religious 
point, and evinces a Catholic doctrinal abhorrence of suicide; 
the second bears, though vaguely, upon the question of rela- 
tive social estimation : 

Imo. Against self-slaughter 

There is a prohibition so divine 
That cravens my weak hand. Act III, Scene 4. 

Imo. Two beggars told me 

I could not miss my way ; will poor folks lie 

That have afflictions on them ; knowing 'tis 

A punishment or trial ? Yes ; no wonder, 

When rich ones scarce tell true ; to lapse in fulness 

Is sorer than to lie for need ; and falsehood 

Is worse in kings than beggars. Act III, Scene 6. 

Dr. Johnson, in speaking of this play, remarks that "it 
has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some 
pleasing scenes " ; but adds, " they are obtained at the expense 
of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the 
absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and 
manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events 
in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting 
imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection and too gro3S 
for aggravation." 

Dr. Drake protests against the enormous injustice of the 
above paragraph by the egotistical leviathan, declaring very 
correctly that "nearly every page of 'Cymbeline' will, to a 
reader of any taste or discrimination, bring the most decisive 
evidence." In connection with this vindication, however, 
Drake is forced to admit " that ' Cymbeline ' possesses many 
of the too common inattentions of Shakespeare; that it ex- 
hibits a frequent violation as to costume, and a singular con- 
fusion of nomenclature, can not be denied : but these," says 
he, "are trifles light as air when contrasted with merits which 
are of the very essence of dramatic worth, rich and full in all 
that breathes of vigor, animation, and intellect." 

These observations by both Johnson and Drake of the in- 
congruities of the piece as to time, manners, and costumes, 



344 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

and, moreover, the fact mentioned by Harness, that the poet 
has peopled his Rome with modem Italians, must all be con- 
sidered as decisive against the presumed authorship by Bacon,, 
for Sir Francis had traveled in Italy and knew better ; while, 
on the other hand, they are just such errors as might easily 
have been fallen into by William Shakespeare, the untraveled 
London manager. 



The tragedy of " Eomeo and Juliet," though not ranked 
by the critics among our poet's greatest works, has the singu- 
lar fortune of presenting two questions which have aroused 
more curiosity and comment than perhaps any others which 
direct the attention of the reader toward the personality of 
Shakespeare, both as respects his religious persuasion and 
the caprice which often governed him in the formation ot 
his characters. I refer first to the doubts raised by the ap- 
pearance in the earlier editions of this play of the term 
" evening mass" (sufficiently treated in Chapter YII), and, 
second, as to the remarkable character of the nurse of Juliet, 
which, though universally regarded for more than two hun- 
dred years as one of the great masterpieces of him who is 
admitted to be, par excellence, the Poet of Nature, makes the 
greatest blunder that Shakespeare ever made — a blunder 
which the admirers of Bacon, however far they may be dis- 
posed to go in claiming for their idol the authorship of Shake- 
speare's works, can never admit would have been perpetrated 
by the Master of Philosophers : the blunder of representing a 
woman of nearly seventy years of age to have been the wet- 
nurse, when nearly sixty, of a girl who has only attained the 
age of fourteen — circumstances which place the old crone be- 
yond the age of nurture long before her own child Susan or Ju- 
liet was born. The character of the Nurse in " Romeo and 
Juliet " is known as one of the most conspicuous parts in the 
whole range of the Shakespearean drama ; it is so wonderfully 
stamped with special descriptive force that it has figured 
among actors for over two hundred years as " the first old 



"Romeo and Juliet? 345 

woman of the stage " — a circumstance which is somewhat of 
a contradiction in itself when we reflect that there were no 
actresses in Shakespeare's time, when "Romeo and Juliet" 
was put upon the stage, all female parts, whether young or 
old, being performed by boys or men. 

But this is not the only contradiction which perplexes us. 
We have only to recall the unhappy story of this otherwise 
admirable tragedy to observe that Lady Capulet, the mother 
of the heroine, was but twenty-eight when Juliet died; and 
it seems to be mere absurdity to suppose that the rose-leaf 
which was lifted from the mother's bosom nearly fourteen 
years before was consigned by the most powerful house in 
Mantua to such a wet-nurse and foster-mother as the decrepit 
one described to us. Nevertheless, this old crone is the pic- 
ture of Juliet's nurse which has so long been current with 
the world. A brief reference to the text of the play will show 
how strangely the Poet of Nature is at cross purposes with 
Nature in his management of this extraordinary character. 

In Act I, Scene 2, Paris applies to old Capulet for his 
daughter's hand, but the father refuses on the score that his 
daughter is not yet fourteen. He then bids him be patient 
and wait " till two more summers have withered in their 
prime." Paris replies that " younger than she hath happy 
mothers made." Whereupon Capulet tells him that, if he can 
get the young lady's consent, he, as a father, is content. 

Act I, Scene 3, introduces Lady Capulet, Juliet, and the 
Nurse. In this scene Lady Capulet tells Juliet that she must 
prepare herself to accept the County Paris as her husband, 
and repeats the statement of old Capulet to the effect that 
Juliet is nearly fourteen years of age. The Nurse here inter- 
poses the remark that she is just two weeks short of fourteen ; 
that she suckled her, and knows all about it, for "come Lam- 
mas-eve at night" (then but two weeks due), eleven years 
before, when Juliet was three years of age, she weaned her, 
and made her refuse the breast by " laying wormwood to her 
dug." Moreover, she adds that Juliet supplied the place of 
her own child Susan, who was of the same age, but was now 
" with God " ; to the truth of all of which she offers to wager 
the only remaining four teeth in her head. Lady Capulet 



346 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

adds at the same time, in order to overcome the scruples of 
Juliet at so early a match, that "I was a mother much about 
your time " — presumably with Juliet's " time," for we hear of 
no other child of Lady Capulet in the course of the play. 

But, perhaps, for the sake of greater exactness, we had 
better at this point quote the text : 

Act I, Scene 3. 
A room in Capuxet's house. 
Nuese. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an hoar. 
Lady Cap. She's not fourteen. 
Nuese. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth, 

And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have out four — 

She is not fourteen. — How long is it now 

To Lammas-tide ? 
Lady Cap. A fortnight, and odd days. 

Nuese. Even or odd, of all days in tbe year, 

Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she he fourteen. 

Susan and she — God rest all Christian souls! — 

"Were of an age. — Well, Susan is with God ; 

She was too good for me ; But, as I said, 

On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ; 

That shall she, marry ; I remember it well. 

'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; 

And she was wean'd — I never shall forget it — 

Of all the days of the year, upon that day ; 

For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, 

Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, 

My lord and you were then at Mantua : — 

Nay, I do bear a brain : — but, as I said, 

When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple 

Of my dug, and felt it hitter, pretty fool ! 

To see it techy, and fall out with the dug. 

Shake, quoth the dove-house : 'twas no need, I trow, 

To bid me trudge. 

And since that time it is eleven years ; 

For then she could stand alone ; nay, by the rood, 

She could have run and waddled all about. 

God mark thee to his grace 1 
Thou wast the prettiest babe that ere I nursed. 

It follows from all these statements, both of Lady Capulet 
and her husband, for the purpose of marrying their daughter 



u Romeo and Juliet? 347 

with the County Paris, that Juliet was fully competent to all 
the duties of maternity at the age of fourteen ; and it likewise 
follows that, in that country of early maturity, the rich and 
powerful house of Capulet would hardly have consigned their 
only heir to the breast of a wet-nurse who was over thirty 
years of age. Perhaps it would have been more likely for 
them to have chosen one of twenty-one. 

It certainly seems strange that, though over two centuries 
have elapsed since the play of "Romeo and Juliet" appeared, 
no one has stumbled over this singular incongruity or blun- 
der ; or, if any one ever did, that no one has shown sufficient 
courage to expose it against a writer whom it has been so 
dangerous to criticise. Still do I deem it right that Jupiter 
himself should be held responsible for error, for even mythol- 
ogy concedes that correction, well applied, improves the gods. 

But it may be well, before entirely disposing of the sub- 
ject, to remark that, inasmuch as there were no actresses in 
Shakespeare's time, he may have written this particular char- 
acter of the Nurse to fit some old actor who was great in gar- 
rulous female parts. This policy is quite in accordance with 
the business of theatrical managers and play-actors of all 
times. If, however, the incongruities and inconsistencies of 
the Nurse are not to be accounted for in this business way, I 
can not conceive how else they came about. 

"No play of Shakespeare's," says Hunter, "has been, 
from the first, more popular than this — perhaps none so pop- 
ular. The interest of the story, the variety of the characters, 
the appeals to the hearts of all beholders, the abundance of 
what may be called episodical passages of singular beauty, 
Buch as Queen Mab, the Friar's husbandry, the starved Apoth- 
ecary, and the gems of the purest poetry, which are scat- 
tered in rich abundance — these all concur to make it the 
delight of the many, as it is also a favorite study for the few. 
But so tragical a story ministers to a depraved appetite in the 
many. The mass of Englishmen love scenes of horror, wheth- 
er in reality or in the mimic representations on the stage. 
Shakespeare seems to have understood this, and, both here 
and in 'Hamlet,' he leaves scarcely any one alive. Even 
the insignificant Benvolio is not permitted to live out the 



348 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

story. It would be profanation, however, to believe that this 
has been a principal cause of the extreme popularity of c Ro- 
meo and Juliet,' which began in the author's own time, and 
is continued in ours." 

The evidences in this play which will most interest us are 
those bearing upon the fact that Shakespeare's mind was 
thoroughly imbued with the Roman Catholic faith. We find 
several indications of this in the great reverence with which 
he always speaks of Friar Laurence, and of the holy or Mother 
Church, through the mouths of Romeo, Paris, Juliet, and Lady 
Capulet ; also through the auxiliary facts which paint the 
Friar, unlucky as he was, as the most elevated and estimable 
of the dramatis personce. 

The first evidence the play gives us of this religious ten- 
dency is in the lines where Romeo decides to ask the Friar to 
marry him to Juliet: 

" Hence will I to my ghostly friar's close cell, 
His help to crave and my dear hope to tell." 

Every indication also in this and subsequent conversations of 
the various characters who come in contact with Friar Lau- 
rence shows that Shakespeare was fully impressed with the 
Roman Catholic idea that marriage was a sacrament, and not 
a mere civil contract. Romeo says to the Nurse, in the second 

act: 

" Bid her devise some means to come to shrift 
This afternoon ; 

And there shall she at friar Laurence' cell 
Be shrived and married." 

In Scene 6, of the same act, when the marriage takes place, 
the Friar says : 

" So smile the heavens upon this holy act, 
That after honrs with sorrow chide us not." 

To which Romeo answers, 

Amen, amen ! 
Do thou but close our hands with holy words. 
Fki. Come, come with me, and we will make short work ; 
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone, 
Till holy church incorporate two in one. 



''Romeo and Juliet? 349 

In the next act the Friar rebukes Romeo for his intention of 
committing suicide, by reminding him of the Catholic canon 
against self -slaughter : 

"I thought thy disposition better temper'd. 
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? 
And slay the lady that in thy life lives, 
By doing damned hate upon thyself? " 

The Friar, being relieved by the nuptial ceremony from his 
concern about leaving the imprudent young couple together, 
now seems rather to urge the practical consummation of the 
marriage : 

" Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, 
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her." 

But the expression which has given rise to more con- 
troversy than any other on the subject of Shakespeare's re- 
ligious faith occurs in Act IY, Scene 1, where Juliet, under the 
coercion of her mother, and after her secret marriage with 
Romeo, accompanies Paris to the Friar's cell, as a preliminary 
to her new nuptials with that gentleman. The expression is : 

Jul. Are you at leisure, holy father, now ; 

Or shall I come to you at evening mass ? 
Fei. My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now : 

My lord, we must entreat the time alone. 

It is claimed by some, as we have already seen, that the 
use of the term "evening mass" shows Shakespeare to have 
been ignorant of the Catholic religion, while others hold that, 
under the prohibition which prevailed during Elizabeth's Prot- 
estant reign of all Catholic service, Shakespeare may really 
never have heard mass, except when it was furtively practiced 
by what were called " hedge-priests " at night, and was, there- 
fore, naturally led into the expression of u evening mass." 
But I decline this view, and, having sufficiently treated it 
already at pages 60 to 63, refer the reader for the old opinion 
to Appendix II. 

The ball-room scene contains many very Catholic allu- 
sions, among the most striking of which are the following : 

Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand 
This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, — 



350 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. 
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, 

Which mannerly devotion shows in this, 

For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, 1 

And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss. 
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too ? 
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. 
Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; 

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. 
Rom. Then move not, while my prayers' effect I take. 

Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged. [He kisses her. 
Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. 

The last few lines are singularly Catholic, for all impurity 
of thoughts or looks even is rigorously condemned by father 
confessors, on the principle that the mere desire of love is as 
bad as the actual sin, unless it be consecrated in wedlock. 
Juliet's declaration in the balcony scene is in full religious 
agreement with the rest. She evidently considers that de- 
spair and death are preferable to dishonor, and her subsequent 
noble speeches concerning her duties as " a true wife to her 
true lord " are singularly Catholic in tone, for, whatever may 
be the faults of the Romish Church, it must be cheerfully 
admitted that it has always upheld the sanctity of matrimony 
in the most uncompromising manner. 

Romeo also is a thorough Catholic, and his confidence in 
his father confessor is expressed in lines already quoted. 

Mark, also, that Friar Laurence is well aware of the pre- 
vious attachment which existed between Romeo and Rosaline, 
a fact from which we may conclude that young Romeo had 
been a very regular attendant at the worthy monk's confes- 
sional. But I might quote evidences of Shakespeare's inti- 
macy with Catholic ideas, rites, ceremonies, and customs 
from almost every scene in this play. I will conclude this 
chapter with the following beautiful and noble speech of 

1 An evident allusion to the sacred relics and to the wax figures cover- 
ing the bones of saints, which are still kissed by the Catholic pilgrims, 
who are now flocking, by hundreds of thousands, to Lourdes, to Paray-le- 
Monial, and to other like religious places. 



"Romeo and Juliet? 351 

Friar Laurence, who, by the way, is the beau ideal of a true 

spiritual adviser : 

" Heaven and yourself 
Had part in this fair maid ; now heaven hath all, 
And all the better is it for the maid ; 
Your part in her you could not keep from death ; 
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life. 
The most you sought was — her promotion ; 
For 'twas your heaven, she should be advanced, 
And weep ye now seeing she is advanced 
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself? 
O, in this love, you love your child so ill, 
That you run mad, seeing that she is well. 

Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary 
On this fair corse ; and, as the custom is, 
In all her best array bear her to church." 

LEGAL ACQUIREMENTS. 

The evidences which Lord Campbell finds in " Romeo and 
Juliet " of Shakespeare's legal acquirements are neither nu- 
merous nor, as it seems to me, very weighty. His lordship, 
however, is evidently of a different opinion. Says his lord- 
ship : 

" The first scene of this romantic drama may be studied 
by a student of the Inns of Court to acquire a knowledge of 
the law of ' assault and battery,' and what will amount to a 
justification. Although Samson exclaims, ' My naked weapon 
is out : quarrel, I will back thee ' ; he adds, c Let us take 
the law of our sides ; let them begin.' Then we learn that 
neither frowning nor biting the thumb, nor answering to a 
question, 4 Do you bite your thumb at us, sir ? ' ' I do bite my 
thumb, sir,' would be enough to support the plea of se defen- 
dendo. 

" The scene ends with old Montagu and old Capulet being 
bound over, in the English fashion, to keep the peace — in the 
same manner as two Warwickshire clowns, who had been 
fighting, might have been dealt with at Charlecote before Sir 
Thomas Lucy. 

" The only other scene in this play I have marked to be 
noticed for the use of law terms is that between Mercutio and 



352 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Benvolio, in which they keenly dispute which of the two is 
the more quarrelsome ; at last Benvolio — not denying that he 
had quarreled with a man for coughing in the street, where- 
by he wakened Benvolio's dog, that lay asleep in the sun, or 
that he had quarreled with another for tying his new shoes 
with an old ribbon — contents himself with this tu quoque 
answer to Mercutio : 

'An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee- 
simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.' — Act III, Scene 1. 

" Talking of the fee-simple of a man's life and calculating 
how many hours' purchase it was worth is certainly what 
might not unnaturally be expected from the clerk of a coun- 
try attorney." 



"Julius Ctesar" 353 



CHAPTEE XXXV. 



The tragedy of " Julius Caesar " presents the first chal- 
lenge to that portion of my theme which declares we can not 
find in all of Shakespeare's dramas one single aspiration in 
favor of human liberty; for the patriotic part of Brutus, with 
its splendid invocation of the Roman conspirators to " Peace, 
Freedom, and Liberty," seems to be in direct conflict with 
my theory. 1 

"Julius Caesar" belongs to what are known in Shake- 
spearean literature as the three Roman plays, the first of which 
is " Coriolanus" and the last " Antony and Cleopatra." I have 
transposed the order of the two first, however, for greater con- 
venience in the presentation of our case. None of these plays 
appeared in print until after Shakespeare's death (in folio of 
1623), but they are generally supposed to have been produced 
in 1607, 1608, 1609, and FurnivaPs "Table" credits the pro- 
duction of " Julius Caesar " to a period as early as 1601-3. The 
strong probability is, therefore, that it belongs to that period 
of our poet's powers which began soon after the opening of 
the seventeenth century, and shared the supreme honors of 
his mind with "Macbeth," " Troilus," " Othello," " Lear," and 
"Hamlet." 

Shakespeare is entirely indebted for the story of " Julius 
Caesar" to a translation from Plutarch, made by Sir Thomas 
North in 1579, and, so faithfully has he followed this historical 
outline, that in portions of the play our poet seems almost to 

1 See " Henry VI," Part II, p. 259, where Shakespeare puts liberty in 
the mouth of Jack Cade as a license and a mock. 
23 



354 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

have copied from North's text. It is observable, however, 
that he has molded his characters somewhat differently from 
Plutarch's models, and most notably has he done so in the case 
of Brutus, to whom he has imparted a transcendent loftiness 
of sentiment, which history has not entirely accorded to him. 
In speaking of this figure of the play, a commentator, whose 
name I can not give because the volume from which I quote 
has lost its title-page, aptly says that, " Shakespeare doubtless 
intended to make Brutus his hero ; he has therefore exalted 
his character and suppressed his defects. Public duty has 
been assigned, both by the poet and the historian, as the 
motive of Brutus for joining in the conspiracy ; but particu- 
lars are added by the former which give an amiableness to 
his character that we should vainly look for in Plutarch. 
The obligations of Brutus to Caesar are but slightly noticed ; 
it would have defeated the dramatist's purpose of raising him 
in our esteem." " The great honours and favour Caesar showed 
unto Brutus," says North, " kept him backe, that of himself 
alone he did not conspire nor consent to depose him of his 
kingdom e. For Caesar did not only save his life after the 
battle of Pharsalia, when Pompey fled, and did, at his request 
also, save many more of his friends besides ; but furthermore, 
he put a marvellous confidence in him." Moreover, Caesar 
had some reason to believe that Brutus was his son. 8 

Now, in order to ascertain what kind of a patriot Brutus 
was, I will refer, as briefly as possible, to what is received, on 
all sides, as reliable history about Caesar and his times ; and I 
pray it may be understood, at the beginning, that I do not 
mean to dispute or to undervalue the sincerity of Brutus's 
patriotism, because his sympathies were not with the so-called 

8 Plutarch, in his " Life of Marcus Brutus," distinctly states that Caesar 
" had good reason to believe Brutus to be his son, by Servilia." Sueto- 
nius, in his " Lives of the Twelve Caesars," confirms this statement, and 
adds to the Shakespearean words of the dying Caesar, thus : " And thou, 
too, Brutus, my son ! " According to Dio Cassius, he cried out, " You, 
too, Brutus, my son ! " If he did use the expression, it may have meant 
more than a mere term of affection, for scandal declared that Brutus was 
his son, the fruit of an amour between his mother Servilia and Caesar. — 
Forsyth's "Cicero," p. 419, London, 1869. 






"Julius Ccesar? 355 

common people ; for undoubtedly a man may love his country 
equally under a belief in monarchy or oligarchy with one 
who is a patriot according to the democratic ideal. But the 
observation which I make, from the " American point of 
view," is, that the character and sentiments of Brutus do not 
infringe my theory, or relieve William Shakespeare from the 
charge of never sympathizing with the working classes or 
with general political liberty. In short, the text of this play 
will show that Brutus was as unbending an aristocrat as 
Coriolanus, and that the only liberty for which he bathed his 
arms in the blood of his best friend was the liberty of retain- 
ing the Government, falsely named a republic, in the hands of 
the Patricians or slave-owners, simply ^because he did not wish 
that the importance of the patrician class should be reduced 
by the supreme authority of a king. Brutus, doubtless, be- 
lieved that the oligarchical and slave-holding form of govern- 
ment was the best form for the welfare of his country, but 
"William Shakespeare wrote under a later and more beneficent 
experience, and he should have sympathized with the bondage 
and sufferings of the poor. The detestation of Coriolanus for 
B-ome's "woollen slaves" and "base mechanics" was not a 
whit softened, however, by Shakespeare toward Jack Cade 
and his brave followers of the fifteenth century. It is very 
strange, therefore, that our poet, while writing under the light 
of the seventeenth century, and of the liberty which was 
dawning upon his own times, could never find one impulse in 
his heart to celebrate the march of Mercy. 

In the period of Coriolanus, whom he honors with the 
entire weight of his admiration, the following is described by 
an historian of authority as the political and social condition 
of the republic of Rome : 3 

" The history of Rome during this period is one of great 
interest. The Patricians and Plebeians formed two distinct 
orders in the State. After the banishment of the kings, the 
Patricians retained exclusive possession of political power. 
The Plebeians, it is true, could vote at the general elections, 

3 " History of Rome," by William Smith, LL. D. Harper & Brothers, 
New York, 1875. 



356 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

but, as they were mostly poor, they were outvoted by the 
Patricians and their clients. The consuls and other magis- 
trates were taken entirely from the Patricians, who also pos- 
sessed the exclusive knowledge and administration of the law. 
In one word, the Patricians were a ruling and the Plebeians a 
subject class. But this was not all. The Patricians formed 
not only a separate class, but a separate caste, not marrying 
with the Plebeians, and worshiping the gods with different 
religious rites. If a Patrician man married a Plebeian wife, 
or a Patrician woman a Plebeian husband, the State refused 
to recognize the marriage, and the offspring was treated as 
illegitimate. 

" The Plebeians had to complain not only of political but 
also of private wrongs. The law of debtor and creditor was 
very severe at Rome. If the borrower did not pay the money 
by the time agreed upon, his person was seized by the cred- 
itor, and he was obliged to work as a slave. Nay, in certain 
cases he might even be put to death by the creditor; and, if 
there were more than one, his body might be cut in pieces and 
divided among them. The whole weight of this oppressive law 
fell upon the Plebsians ; and what rendered the case still 
harder was, that they were frequently compelled, through no 
fault of their own, to become borrowers. They were small 
landholders, living by cultivating the soil with their own 
hands ; but, as they had to serve in the army without pay, 
they had no means of engaging laborers in their absence. 
Hence, on their return home, they were left without the means 
of subsistence or of purchasing seed for the next crop, and 
consequently borrowing was their only resource. 

" Another circumstance still farther aggravated the hard- 
ships of the Plebeians. The State possessed a large quantity 
of land called Ager Publicus, or the ' Public Land.' This land 
originally belonged to the kings, being set apart for their sup- 
port ; and it was constantly increased by conquest, as it was 
the practice, on the subjugation of a people, to deprive them 
of a certain portion of their land. This public land was let 
by the State subject to a rent; but, as the Patricians possessed 
the political power, they divided the public land among them- 
selves, and paid for it only a nominal rent. Thus the Pie- 



"Julius Cczsar? 357 

beians, by whose blood and unpaid toil much of this land had 
been won, were excluded from all participation in it." 

Reforms were made from time to time, but they did not 
confer upon the Plebeians any substantial liberties, for the 
condition of things in Rome, even three hundred years later 
than the time of Coriolanus, is thus correctly described by the 
same author : 

"Among many other important consequences of these 
foreign wars, two exercised an especial influence upon the fu- 
ture fate of the republic. The nobles became enormously rich, 
and the peasant proprietors almost entirely disappeared. The 
wealthy nobles now combined together to keep in their own 
families the public offices of the State, which afforded the means 
of making such enormous fortunes. Thus a new nobility was 
formed, resting on wealth, and composed alike of plebeian and 
patrician families. Every one whose ancestry had not held 
any of the curule magistracies was called a New Man, and was 
branded as an upstart. It became more and more difficult for a 
New Man to rise to office, and the nobles were thus almost an 
hereditary aristocracy in the exclusive possession of the govern- 
ment. The wealth they had acquired in foreign commands 
enabled them not only to incur a prodigious expense in the 
celebration of the public games in their aedileship, with the 
view of gaining the votes of the people at future elections, but 
also to spend large sums of money in the actual purchase of 
votes. The first Jaw against bribery was passed in 181 before 
Christ, a sure proof of the growth of the practice." 

Now, this was the condition of things which Brutus and 
Cassius and their co-conspirators combined together to sustain. 
They did not once dream of enfranchising their bondsmen or 
of enlarging the liberties of the people. Their rebellion 
against Caesar was just such a selfish and aristocratic revolt 
as that which, in later days, took place among the English 
Barons against King John, and that had not one patriotic 
motive in it. It resulted, long afterward, in advantages to 
the people, it is true, but it did not contemplate any at the 
time. 

Caesar, with his large and liberal nature, his mighty cour- 
age, which disdained the mean calculations of conservatism, 



358 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

and his notoriously kind heart, which had been shown in his 
pardon and promotion of Brutus after the battle of Pharsalia, 
was really more disposed to popular reforms than any of his 
patrician contemporaries. His broad hand had been stretched 
out frequently toward the poor, not only in largesses of corn, 
but in the extension of their privileges ; and he kept con- 
tinually making inroads upon the power of the Patricians, by 
way of bringing the people and himself nearer to each other. 
One of his measures to this end was the frequent increasing 
of the number of patrician families from the general mass of 
citizens ; another was the selection of the two powerful offi- 
cers, entitled ^Ediles Cereales, which he instituted from the 
plebeian class alone; 4 and a third was the introduction of an 
agrarian law for a division among citizens of the rich Cain- 
panian lands. It was this latter law which, more than any 
other measure, alarmed the patrician party. Their bitterest 
opposition was instituted against it. Nevertheless, both Pom- 
pey and Crassus, on the other hand, spoke in its favor, and 
twenty thousand citizens, including a large number of Pom- 
pey's veterans, were benefited and politically " enabled" by 
it. In addition to this, Caesar instituted laws, during the 
periods of his several dictatorships, to relieve the hardships of 
debtors. In the same spirit he restored all exiles, and, next, 
conferred full citizenship upon the Transpadani, who had 
previously held qualified citizenship only under the Latin 
franchise. 

This man was so large that smaller men could not help 
being afraid of him ; and their revolt, so far as the most of 
them were concerned, proceeded either from motives of per- 
sonal hatred or political jealousy. Certainly, it was not in- 
spired by apprehension of his personal tyranny, for Caesar 
forgave in turn almost every man who had been his enemy. 
He feared nothing. As for Brutus, though a man of high 
courage and lofty principle, with doubtless a profound love of 
country, he was a sort of patriotic Don Quixote, whom the 
more crafty spirits in the plot against Csesar's life tricked and 
cajoled to the support of their less worthy purpose. With 

4 Niebnhr, p. 626. James Walton, London, 1870. 



"Julius Cczsar." 359 

this analysis of the character of the " Freedom, Liberty, and 
Enfranchisement," which the conspirators invoked when they 
struck the foremost man of all the world, we will now pro- 
ceed to examine extracts from the Shakespeare text. The 
play opens with a characteristic illustration of the author's 
estimation of mechanics, citizens, and tradesmen : 

Act I, Scene 1. — Rome. A Street. 

Enter Flayitts, Maeullus, and a raddle of Citizens. 

Flav. Hence ; home, you idle creatures, get you home ; 
Is this a holiday ? What ! know you not, 
Being mechanical, you ought not walk, 
Upon a labouring day, without the sign 
Of your prof ession f — Speak, what trade art thou? 

1 Cit. Why, sir, a carpenter. 

Mae. Where is thy leather apron, and thy rule ? 

What dost thou with thy best apparel on ? — 
You, sir ; what trade are you ? 

2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would 
say, a cobbler. 

Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day ? 

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets ? 
2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myself into more 
work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar, and to rejoice in 
his triumph. 

Flav. Go, go, good countrymen, and, for this fault, 

Assemble all the poor men of your sort ; 

Draw them to Tiber banks, and weep your tears 

Into the channel, till the lowest stream 

Do kiss the most exalted shores of all. [Exit Citizens. 

[To Maeullus.] See, whe'r their dasest metal de not motfd; 

They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. 

Go you down that way towards the Capitol ; 

This way will I : disrobe the images, 

If you do find them deck'd with ceremonies. 
Mae. May we do so ? 

You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. 
Flav. It is no matter ; let no images 

Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, 

And drive away the vulgar from the streets; 

So do you too, where you perceive them thick. 

These growing feathers pluck'd from Caesar's wing, 



360 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Will make him fly an ordinary pitch ; 

Who else would soar above the view of men, 

And keep us all in servile fearfulness. [Exeunt. 

At the opening of the next scene, Caesar appears crossing 
the stage in grand triumphal procession toward the Capitol, 
where the experiment of playfully offering him a crown is to 
be performed by Antony, with a view of testing the temper 
of the people. After Caesar and his train go by, Brutus and 
Cassius remain. The artful Cassius then begins to work upon 
the mind of his susceptible brother-in-law, as follows : 

[Flourish and shout. 
Beit. What means this shouting? I do fear, the people 

Choose Caesar for their king. 
Cas. Ay, do you fear it ? 

Then, must I think you would not have it so. 
Betj. I would not, Cassius; yet I love him well. 

But wherefore do you hold me here so long? 

What is it that you would impart to me? 

If it be aught toward the general good, 

Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other, 

And I will look on both indifferently ; 

For, let the gods so speed me as I love 

The name of honour more than I fear death. 

Cas. [speaking of Ccesar.] Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 

A man of such a feeble temper should 

So get the start of the majestic world, 

And bear the palm alone. [Shout and flourish. 

Beit. Another general shout ! 

I do believe that these applauses are 

For some new honours that are heap'd on Caesar. 
Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, 

Like a Colossus ; and we petty men 

Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 

To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 

ISTow, in the names of all the gods at once, 
Upon what meat doth this our Cassar feed, 
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed : 
Borne, thou hast lost the oreed of nolle Moods. 
When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
But it was f am'd with more than with one man ? 
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Kome, 



"Julius CcBsar? 361 

That her wide walls encompass'd but one man? 

Now is it Eome indeed, and room enough, 

When there is in it but one only man. 

O ! you and I have heard our fathers say, 

There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd 

Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Kome, 

As easily as a king. 

Beu. The games are done, and Caesar is returning. 
Re-enter Cesae and his Train. 

Oas. As they pass by, pluck Oasca by the sleeve; 
And be will, after his sour fashion, tell you 
"What hath proceeded worthy note to-day. 

Beu. I will do so:— ^But, look you, Oassius, 

The angry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow, 
And all the rest look like a chidden train: 
Calphurnia's cheek is pale ; and Cicero 
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes, 
As we have seen him in the Capitol, 
Being cross'd in conference by some senators. 

Cas. Casca will tell us what the matter is. 

[Exeunt Cjssae and his Train. Casoa stays behind. 

Casca. You pull'd me by the cloak ; would you speak with me ? 

Beu. Ay, Casca ; tell us what hath chanced to-day, 
That Caesar looks so sad ? 

Casca. Why you were with him, were you not ? 

Beu. I should not then ask Casca what hath chanced. 

Casoa. Why, there was a crown offered him: and being offered him, 
he put it by with the back of his hand, thus ; and then the people fell a' 
shouting. 

Beu. What was the second noise for ? 

Casoa. Why, for that too. 

Beu. Was the crown offer'd him thrice ? 

Casoa. Ah, marry, was't, and he put it by thrice, every time gentler 
than other ; and at every putting by, mine honest neighbours shouted. 

Cas. Who offer'd him the crown ? 

Casoa. Why, Antony. 

Beu. Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. 

Casoa. I can as well be hanged as tell the manner of it: it was mere 
foolery. I did not mark it. I saw Mark Antony offer him a crown ; — 
yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas one of these coronets; and, as I told 
you, he put it by once ; but, for all that, to my thinking, he would fain 
have had it. Then he offered it to him again; then he put it by again: 
but, to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then 



362 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

he offered it the third time ; he put it the third time by : and still as he 
refused it, the rabblement hooted, and clapped their chapped hands, and 
threw up their sweaty nightcaps, and uttered such a deal of stinking 
breath because Casar refused the crown, that it had almost choked Ccesar; 
for he swooned, and fell down at it: and for mine own part, I durst not 
laugh, for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. 

Cas. But, soft, I pray you: What? Did Caasar swoon? 

Casoa. He fell down in the market-place, and foamed at mouth, and 
was speechless. 

Beu. 'Tis very like : he hath the falling sickness. 

Cas. No, Cassar hath it not ; hut you, and I, 

And honest Casca, we have the falling sickness. 

Casoa. I know not what you mean hythat; but I am sure Caasar 
fell down. If the tag-rag people did not clap him, and hiss him, accord- 
ing as he pleased and displeased them, as they used to do the players in the 
theatre, I am no true man. 

Beu. What said he, when he came unto himself? 

Casoa. Marry, before he fell down, when he perceived the common 
herd was glad he refused the crown, he plucked me ope his doublet, and 
offered them his throat to cut. — An I had been a man of any occupation, 
if I would not have taken him at a word, I would I might go to hell 
among the rogues : — and so he fell. When he came to himself again, he 
said, if he had done or said anything amiss, he desired their worships to 
think it was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, where I stood, cried, 
"Alas, good soul! " — and forgave him with all their hearts. 

Beu. And after that he came, thus sad, away ? 

Cas. Ay. [Exit. 

Beu. For this time I will leave you : 

To-morrow, if you please to speak with me, 
I will come home to you ; or, if you will, 
Come home to me, and I will wait for you. 



Cas. I will do so : — till then, think of the world. 



[Exit Beutub. 



In all of this thrilling and impassioned dialogue it will be 
perceived that there is not one thought of popular liberty, the 
only motive of the conspirators being to protect the threatened 
equality of Brutus, Cassius & Co., with Caesar, and to main- 
tain the ascendancy of the Roman nobility over a king. I 
have given the dialogue at some length, simply because the 
necessities of illustration would not permit me to curtail it 
further. It may be objected that the cynical Casca is alone 
responsible for the expressions of contempt toward the people, 



"Julius Cczsar." 363 

but it must be observed that he utters these derogatory senti- 
ments in the presence of Brutus and Cassius without rebuke 
or protest on their part. They must, therefore, be held an- 
swerable for participating in them. 

In the second scene of the second act, when several strange 
portents warn Csesar not to go forth upon the 15th of March 
(the Ides of March) to the Senate-house, where the conspira- 
tors, fixed in their fell purpose, are awaiting him, he is en- 
treated by his wife Calphurnia not to venture out of doors. 

Nevertheless, Caesar, in his sublime willfulness, goes forth, 
and holds his levee in the Senate-house. The conspirators 
make their opportunity to slay him, by pleading for the repeal 
of banishment against the brother of Metellus Cimber, one of 
their number. Metellus puts the first appeal. He is followed 
by Brutus and Cassius, who, considering their pretensions and 
the dark purpose which animates their hearts, address him in 
a not very worthy manner : 

Betj. I kiss thy hand, but not in flattery, Caesar ; 

Desiring thee, that Publius Cimber may 

Have an immediate freedom of repeal. 
Qss. What, Brutus! 
Cas. Pardon, Caesar : Caesar, pardon ; 

As low as to thy foot doth Cassius fall, 

To beg enfranchisement for Publius Cimber. 
C^es. I could be well moved, if I were as you ; 

If I could pray to move, prayers would move me ; 

But I am constant as the northern star, 

Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality 

There is no fellow in the firmament. 

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks, 

They are all fire, and every one doth shine ; 

But there's but one in all doth hold his place : 

So, in the world : 'Tis furnisli'd well with men, 

And men are flesh and blood, and apprehensive. 

Yet, in the number, I do know but one 

That unassailable holds on his rank, 

Unshak'd of motion : and, that I am he, 

Let me a little show it, even in this: 

That I was constant Cimber should be banish'd, 

And constant do remain to keep him so. 
Cin. O Caesar, — 
Cjes. Hence ! Wilt thou lift up Olympus ? 



364 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Dec Great Csssar, — 

OiES. Doth not Brutus bootless kneel ? 

Casoa. Speak, hands, for me. 

[Oasca stabs Cesar in the neck. Caesar catches hold 
of his arm. He is then stabbed by several other Con- 
spirators, and at last by Marcus Brutus. 
(Les. Et tu, Brute? Then fall, Caesar. 

[Dies. The senators and people retire in confusion. 
Cnr. Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead ! 

Eun hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets. 
Oas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry out, 

Liberty , freedom, enfranchisement! 
Bru. People, and senators ! be not affrighted ; 

Fly not ; stand still : — ambition's debt is paid. 

Then follow the wonderful appeals made by Brutus and 
Mark Antony to the people, in which the masses are repre- 
sented by our author to be base, ignorant, and changeful 
(accordingly as they are swayed by the accents of the respec- 
tive orators), and he makes them wind up by tearing to pieces 
a harmless poet who goes by because he happens to bear the 
name of one of the conspirators. It will be perceived by the 
last of the above extracts that it is Casca, the bitter con- 
temner of the laboring classes, and Cinna, and not Brutus or 
Cassius, who utter these misleading cries for liberty, only to 
inflame and mislead the people. 

Another poet is introduced in the fourth act, at the end 
of the famous quarrel between Brutus and Cassius, who, 
though he forces himself upon them with the worthy purpose 
of reconciling the angry conflict between the two kinsmen, is 
most contemptuously received, and ignominiously disposed of: 

Enter Poet. 
Oas. How now ! What's the matter? 
Poet. For shame, you generals! what do you mean? 

Love, and be friends, as two such men should be : 

For I have seen more years, I am sure, than ye. 
Oas. Ha, ha ; how vilely doth this cynic rhyme ! 
Bru. Get you hence, sirrah ; saucy fellow, hence. 
Oas. Bear with him, Brutus ; 'tis his fashion. 
Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knows his time : 

What should the wars do with these jigging fools? 

Companion, hence. [Exit Pobt. 



"Antony and Cleopatra!' 365 

It is difficult to conceive what object Shakespeare has in 
snubbing this innocent mediator, except it be, as in " Timon of 
Athens," to degrade the occupation of a poet. This might be 
natural in Bacon, but it seems very strange in Shakespeare; 
therefore, as far as it goes, it scores a point, light though it 
be, for the Baconians. 

At the end of the fourth act, Mark Antony, taking advan- 
tage of the success which he has gained through his oration 
to the people, makes a political combination with Octavius 
Caesar, a son of Caesar's niece, whom he had made his heir, 
and with Lepidus, Caesar's Master of Horse. These three 
declared themselves, in triplicate, the masters of the world. 
In the fifth act, Brutus and Cassius (according to the play) 
raise an army to confront the new triumvirs. The general 
conflict takes place at Philippi, where Brutus and Cassius, 
being defeated, commit suicide by falling upon their own 
swords. No Catholic scruple is here interposed by Shake- 
speare as to " the canon 'gainst self-slaughter," so it might 
seem that our poet, after all his preference for Brutus, intends 
that rebellion, even for any form of liberty, shall be punished 
by endless torment in a future state. Lord Campbell finds 
no evidences in " Julius Caesar " of the legal acquirements of 
Shakespeare. 



This play contributes but little to our inquiry. It was 
probably written in immediate connection with " Julius Cae- 
sar " and " Coriolanus," and it carries the fortunes of Antony 
to their melancholy close. It consists of one long revel of 
luxury and passion with Cleopatra, that "serpent of old 
Nile," who having been, in turn, the mistress of Pompey 
and of Caesar, died for Antony. 

The first phrase we find worthy of our attention occurs in 
Scene 2 of Act I ; 

Antony. Our slippery people 

(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, 
Till his deserts are past) begin to throw 



366 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Pompey the Great, and all his dignities, 
Upon Ms son. 

OoTAvrus CLesab. Let's grant it is not 

Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy ; 

To give a kingdom for a mirth ; to sit 

And keep the turn of tippling with a slave ; 

To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet 

With Tcnaves that smell of sweat : say, this becomes him. 

This common body, 
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, 
Goes to, and back, and lackeying the varying tide, 
To rot itself with motion. 

Act I, Scene 4. 
Pompey. What was it 

That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? And what 
Made the all-honour'd, honest, Roman Brutus, 
With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, 
To drench the Capitol ; but that they would 
Have one man but a man ? 

Act II, Scene 6. 

This is only the same beauteous freedom of which we have 
heard Brutus and Cassius and Casca and Cinna discourse 
before. It simply means freedom for nobles from a king, and 
is no nearer true political freedom than the howl for liberty 
which Caliban set up in " The Tempest " was akin to an 
aspiration for popular enfranchisement. The liberty which 
the island monster sighed for was release from durance, such 
as might have been yearned for by a galley-slave. I men- 
tion this latter illustration only, because it is one of the four 
instances in which Shakespeare permits the words " liberty " 
and "freedom" to slip from his pen. In Act TV, Scene 4, 
an officer in Antony's Egyptian palace remarks to Antony : 

" The morn is fair. Good morrow, general." 

My comment upon this is, that the morn is always fair in 
Egypt. I have been assured by Egyptians that it never rains 
above Cairo, 6 on the Nile, and so seldom at Alexandria (say 

6 Old residents of Egypt will tell us that it never rains at Cairo, and 
so they told me when I was there, in the winter of 1870 ; but, unfortu- 



"Antony and Cleopatra! 1 367 

six or seven times a year) that a fair sky is not a matter for 
remark. Bacon would not have fallen into this mistake. 

Enobarbtts (a follower of Antony, who has deserted him). 
But let the world rank me in register 
A master-leaver, and a fugitive. Act IV, Scene 9. 

Antony (to Cleopate a). Ah, thou spell ! Avaunt! 

Cleo. Why is ray lord enraged against his love? 

Ant. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving, 

And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee, 
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians ; 
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot 
Of all thy sex ; most monster-like, he shown 
For poor'st diminutives, for doits ; and let 
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up 

With her prepared nails. [Exit Cleo.] 'Tis well thou'rt gone. 

Act IV, Scene 10. 

Cleo. !STow, Iras, what think'st thou ? 

Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall he shown 
In Eome, as well as I ; mechanic slaves 
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall 
Uplift us to the view ; in their thick breaths, 
Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, 
And forced to drink their vapour. Act V, Scene 2. 

And here falls the veil upon this astounding drama, leav- 
ing Cleopatra to be added to Cressida as the only two com- 
pleted female portraitures that Shakespeare ever drew. They 
were not portraitures from the cold and studied pen of Bacon, 
but such only as could have sprung from the singular experi- 
ence of a man of Shakespeare's life and nature. 

LEGAL EVIDENCES. 

In searching this play for evidences of the legal acquire- 
ments of Shakespeare, Lord Campbell remarks : 

nately for the exactness of the statement, I was caught in a smart shower 
in Cairo, in March of that year, and was well wet through. It lasted but 
a few minutes, it is true, but I was assured afterward, on all sides, that 
such a thing had not happened for years before — the usual assurance, in 
all countries, of the " oldest inhabitant." 



368 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

"In ' Julius Caesar' I could not find a single instance of a 
Eoman being made to talk like an English lawyer; but in 
' Antony and Cleopatra' (Act I, Scene 4), Lepidus, in trying 
to palliate the bad qualities and misdeeds of Antony, uses 
the language of a conveyancer's chambers in Lincoln's Inn : 

' His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, 
More fiery by night's blackness ; hereditary, 
Kather than purchased.'' 

That is to say, they are taken by descent, not by purchase" 

Lay gents (viz., all except lawyers) understand by " pur- 
chase," buying for a sum of money, called the price; but 
lawyers consider that " purchase " is opposed to descent — that 
all things come to the owner either by descent or purchase, 
and that whatever does not come through operation of law by 
descent is purchased, although it may be the free gift of a 
donor. Thus, if land be devised by will to A in fee, he takes 
b y purchase, or to B for life, remainder to A and his heirs, 
B, being a stranger to A, A takes by purchase / but, upon 
the death of A, his eldest son would take by descent. 

English lawyers sometimes use these terms metaphorically, 
like Lepidus. Thus a law lord, who has suffered much from 
hereditary gout, although very temperate in his habits, says, 
"I take it by descent, not by purchase." Again, Lord Chan- 
cellor Eldon, a very bad shot, having insisted on going out 
quite alone to shoot, and boasted of the heavy bag of game 
which he had brought home, Lord Stowell, insinuating that 
he had filled it with game bought from a poacher, used to say, 
"My brother takes his game — not by descent, but by— pur- 
chase" ; this being a pendant to another joke Lord Stowell 
was fond of: "My brother, the Chancellor, in vacation goes 
out with his gun to kill — time." 






"Othello? 369 



CHAPTER XXXYI. 



The period of the authorship of this mighty production of 
our poet's genius is set down with tolerable certainty at 1604 
— in close connection with " Hamlet," " Julius Csesar," " Mac- 
beth," and " Lear." " Around the year 1600," says Dowden, 
"are grouped some of the most mirthful comedies that Shake- 
speare ever wrote. Then a little later, as soon as 'Hamlet' 
is completed, all changes. From 1604 to 1610 a show of 
tragic figures, like the kings who passed before Macbeth, filled 
the vision of Shakespeare. . . . Having created ' Othello,' 
surely the eye of the poet's mind would demand quietude, 
passive acceptance of some calm beauty, a period of restora- 
tion. But ' Othello ' is pursued by ' Lear,' i Lear ' by ' Mac- 
beth,' ' Macbeth' by 'Antony and Cleopatra,' and that by 
1 Coriolanus.' It is evident that now the artist was complete- 
ly aroused." 

The story of " Othello " was taken from the Italian of Gi- 
raldo Cinthio, but Shakespeare can not be said to be indebted 
to its original author for more than a thin line of narrative, 
which any one of a hundred of the writers of his time might 
easily have conceived without much effort. He created all 
the characters, infused all the passion, supplied all the ima- 
gery, and, to use the language of M. Guizot, imparted to the 
dramatis personce " that creative breath which, breathing over 
the past, calls it again into being, and fills it with a present 
and imperishable life ; this was the power wliich Shakespeare 
alone possessed, and by which, out of a forgotten novel, he 
has made ' Othello.' " 
24 



370 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Though our poet names Othello as a Moor, he has not 
indicated the particular country of his birth ; but he seems, 
by a casual allusion in the fourth act, to assign him to Mauri- 
tania, in northern Africa : 

Eodeeigo. "Why then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice ? 
Iago. O, no ; lie goes into Mauritania, and taketh away with him the 
fair Desdemona; unless his abode be lingered here by some accident. 

In that torrid region the fiery warrior acquired his boiling 
temperament and his fervid imagination ; and, in its wars 
and the personal successes of those wars, he gradually obtained 
that barbaric ease of bearing and consciousness of power 
which makes his character, in a dramatic view, so exceedingly 
alluring. 

His military merits must have become familiar to the sur- 
rounding states, and, having probably been greatly honored 
by Venice for some victories, when possibly he had been act- 
ing as her ally, he seems to have taken the fancy to transplant 
his fortunes to Italy and become a Christian. This led to his 
appointment as a general in the Venetian army, and to the 
subsequent responsibility of the defense of Cyprus against a 
threatened descent upon it by an armada of the Turks. Pre- 
vious to receiving this command, Othello had been living in 
Venice; and, to judge from more than one allusion in the 
play, must have been, when the scene opens, well advanced 
in years — certainly twice, and most likely thrice, the age of 
the susceptible and gentle Desdemona. 

This fact, along with his barbaric origin and ding} 7 color, 
leads up to the terrible catastrophe and bloody moral which the 
story levels against ill-assorted marriages. Such was Othello. 
Desdemona, on the other hand, was a scion of one of the high- 
est, wealthiest, and most choicely derived patrician families 
of Venice. Her father, Brabantio, was the most conspicuous 
of the Venetian senators, close in the counsel of the Duke, 
and, it would appear from Eoderigo's case, that he held Des- 
demona very jealously aloof from even the most eligible young 
nobles of the time, so that there should be no likelihood of 
her making a mesalliance, or forming any attachment without 
his scrutiny and patronage. This exceeding carefulness of 



"Othello? 371 

Brabantio against the young Venetian gallants does not seem, 
however, to have taken the least alarm at the visits of the old, 
scarred, dusky Moorish general, who, according to the lan- 
guage of his own incomparable defense before the Senate, seems 
to have had the unrestricted run of Brabantio's house. This 
state of things resulted in one of those amorous episodes which 
£11 the history of human passion, and which, though they 
come about naturally enough, and are often, as in this case, 
entirely honest, are but too apt to take an oblique turn from 
the latent willfulness of the fresher nature, and then to run 
to a troubled termination. I should judge, from what Othello 
twice says of himself, that he was somewhere in the neighbor- 
hood of fifty-five, perhaps sixty, years of age ; and it must be 
noted that Shakespeare, when he produced this play, was him- 
self forty, and Bacon forty-four. Men at these periods of life 
do not usually make themselves older than they really are, or 
regard fifty or fifty-five as " the vale of years." It may be 
said, moreover, so far as Othello is concerned, that he could 
not have been very handsome in his features, from the term 
" thick lips " which is applied to him by Koderigo, in the 
first scene of the first act ; and also from the fact that Iago, 
in the latter part of the same scene, terms him " an old black 



Othello. Haply, for I am dlacfc, 

And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chamberers have : or, for I am declined 
Into the vale of years. 

As to Desdemona's age, it is reasonable to suppose, from 
what we know of the customs of the Italians of the fifteenth 
century, that she was about fifteen. Juliet, it will be recol- 
lected, was married to Romeo and affianced to Paris when not 
fourteen. 

Here we have these contrasted yet agreeing natures of 
Othello and Desdemona enjoying too much opportunity in 
Brabantio's house. He, barbaresque, tropical, phosphoric, and 
of grand masculinity of form; she, soft, imaginative, child- 
like, and susceptible — the opportunity came on some languid 
afternoon, and their expanding souls, guided by no guile and 



372 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

steered by no purpose, had magnetic contact, and, blending 
suddenly, became the victims of each other. Desdemona, it 
is true, was a pattern of purity, and she died innocent ; but it 
is doubtful if she could long have remained so ; for, under the 
incongruities of her case, and with such an unscrupulous tu- 
toress as Emilia at her elbow, 1 her fate would probably have 
been a mere question of time. The love between her and 
Othello was merely an animal fascination, after all. 

Iago, with his clear, penetrating knowledge of the world, 
understood this state of things, and he also thoroughly knew 
the respective natures of Desdemona and Othello. In fact, 
no man of common penetration could fail to understand the 
amorous willfulness of Desdemona, if only from her bold state- 
ment before the full gaze of the Senate, when she threw off 
the authority of her father for that of her clandestinely ac- 
quired dusky husband : 

Des. That I did love the Moor to live with him, 

My downright violence and scorn of fortunes 
May trumpet to the world: my heart's subdued 
Even to the very quality of my lord : 
I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; 
And to his honours and his valiant parts 
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. 

So that, in view of this girlish willfulness, Iago felt himself 
warranted in advising Roderigo (whose proposals for the hand 
of Desdemona had been rejected by Brabantio) to still pursue 
her for her love, notwithstanding she had become a wife : 

Iago [to Eodeeigo]. It cannot be, that Desdemona should long con- 
tinue her love to the Moor — put money in thy purse ; — nor he his to her ; 
it was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an answerable seques- 
tration; — put but money in thy purse. — These Moors are changeable in 
their wills; — fill thy purse with money; the food that to him now is as* 
luscious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She 
must change for youth : when she is sated with his body, she will find the 
error of her choice. — She must have change, she must: — Therefore put 
money in thy purse. — If thou wilt needs damn thyself, do it a more deli- 
cate way than drowning. Make all the money thou canst. If sanctimony 

1 See the dialogue between Desdemona and Emilia at the end of tha 
fourth act. 



"Othello? 373 

and a frail vow, betwixt an erring barbarian and a supersubtle Venetian, 
be not too bard for rny wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy 
her ; therefore, make money. Seek thou ratber to be hanged in compass- 
ing thy joy, than to be drowned and go without her. 

And again, in the same vein of philosophy, Iago says to 
Roderigo : 

Iaoo. Lay thy finger — thus, and let thy soul be instructed. Mark me 
with what violence she first loved the Moor, but for bragging, and telling 
her fantastical lies. And will she love him still for prating? let not thy 
discreet heart think it. Her eye must be fed ; and what delight shall she 
have to look on the devil? When the blood is made dull with the act of 
sport, there should be — again to inflame it, and to give satiety a fresh appe- 
tite — loveliness in favour ; sympathy in years, manners, and beauties; all 
which the Moor is defective in: Now, for want of these required conve- 
niences, her delicate tenderness will find itself abused, begin to heave the 
gorge, disrelish and abhor the Moor ; very nature will instruct her in it, 
and compel her to some second choice. 

Eod. I cannot believe that in her ; she is full of most blessed condition. 
Iago. Blessed fig's end! the wine she drinks is made of grapes ; if she 
had been blessed, she would never have loved the Moor. 

It is quite true that the whole of this argument of Iago is 
intended to deceive and plunder Roderigo ; but it is entirely 
consistent with the language of the ancient's soliloquies. 
Iago is the character most subtilely and artistically drawn of 
any in the piece ; though to Othello are imparted more imagi- 
nation and loftiness of tone. Both, however, act in the main 
from the same impulse — jealousy. The difference in the mo- 
Tale of their motive is, that one proceeds to his revenge from 
an honest and irresistible sense of wrong, which never con- 
templates extending its punishment beyond the wronger, while 
the plots of the other are mixed with calculations of self-inter- 
est, and he conspires equally against the innocent and the 
guilty, whenever the destruction of the former is necessary to 
his plans. 

In the first place, Iago, who is a soldier of intellect, much 
service, and recognized military capacity, has been defeated 
in his application for chief of staff under Othello, by " one 
Michael Cassio," a mere book soldier, who, to use Iago's own 
language, 



374 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

" Never set a squadron in the tented field, 
Nor the division of a battle knows 
More than a spinster." 

We have thus, for Iago's first motive against Othello, a 
sense of injustice and a consequent jealousy of Cassio. In his 
soliloquy at the end of the first act, we see his second motive 
to be sexual jealousy, pure and simple, against both Cassio and 
Othello : 

"I hate the Moor; 

And it is thought abroad, that Hwixt my sheets 

He has done my office. I know not if 't be true ; 

But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, 

Will do, as if for surety." 

And again, in Scene 1 of Act II : 

Iago. That Cassio loves her, I do well believe it ; 

That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great credit; 

The Moor — howbeit that I endure him not — 

Is of a constant, loving, noble nature ; 

And, I dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona 

A most dear husband. Now I do love her too ; 

Not out of absolute lust (though, peradventure, 

I stand accountant for as great a sin), 

But partly led to diet my revenge, 

For that I do suspect the lusty Moor 

Hath leaped into my seat; the thought whereof 

Doth, like a poisonous mineral, gnaw my inwards ; 

And nothing can or shall content my soul, 

Till I am evened with him, wife for wife; 

Or, failing so, yet that I put the Moor 

At least into a jealousy so strong 

That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to do — 

If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trace 

For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 

I'll have our Michael Cassio on the hip ; 

Abuse him to the Moor in the right garb, — 

For I fear Cassio with my nightcap too. 

Here we find an equal depth and intensity of motive on 
the part of Iago against Othello and also against Cassio, as 
Othello has, on his part, against Cassio and Desdemona. 

It is not my province, under the limited task I have as- 
sumed, to trace the Moor's jealousy through all of its feverish 



"Othello? 375 

passages, nor to compare it with the cooler, more stoical, but 
no less profound jealousy of Iago ; but I may notice here that 
we have evidence in Shakespeare's Sonnets that our bard had 
reason to be versed in all the variations of that passion, under 
the capricious vagaries of a certain black-eyed Messalina, who 
toyed with the mighty Etna of his soul, without having any 
true comprehension of its fires or of her own ignorant au- 
dacity in dealing with them. 2 I may be allowed to remark, 
moreover, that my opinion differs from those of all others I 
have seen as to the real and immediate motive of Othello's 
murder of Desdemona. Coleridge has made the observation 
(which Dowden thinks so true that he says all the critics 
have been obliged to repeat it), that " the passion of the Moor 
is not altogether jealousy, but rather the agony of being com- 
pelled to hate that which he supremely loved." This I admit 
to be very near the truth — indeed, quite true, as far as it goes ; 
but it does not go quite far enough. The main misery of the 
Moor was that his proud, sensitive, and selfish nature felt, 
not only that he had been wronged by Desdemona, but that 
his wrong had ~become known to others, and that he had thus 
been made 

"A fixed figure for the hand of Scorn 
To point his slow and moving finger at." 

Had no one known of her offense, so that he could, in his 
mad love and furious tenderness, have seized her in his arms, 
and, bidding a wild farewell to the observing world, have 
borne her away to some jungle in Mauritania, he might there 
have sobbed and throbbed away his still doating life in cursing 
and pitying her crime. But Iago knew it, and Cassio (as he 
thought) also knew it, and the high-strung soul which, under 

2 Except to his succumbing to the fascinations of a dark-eyed and 
dark-haired woman who excelled in music, and (as Mrs. Jameson delicate- 
ly puts it) "was one of a class of females who do not always lose all their 
claim to the admiration of the sex who wronged them . . . one who was 
false, fickle, and known to him to be a traitress, even to the guilty love he 
entertained for her and she had feigned for him; one for whom he en- 
dured the pangs of agony, the pain of shame, the grief of self-reproach, 
and the terrible emotions of jealousy."— " Shakespeare's Character and 
Early Career," "British Quarterly Eeview" for July, 1875. 



376 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

the mediating influences of love, might still have been capable 
of compromise, but which knew nothing of stoicism or phi- 
losophy, slaughtered the wronger, mainly for the wound which 
had been inflicted on his pride. 

"Without arguing this point further, I submit the following 
as arguing it for me : 

Act III, Scene 3. 

Iago [alone]. The Moor already changes with my poison: 
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poisons, 
"Which, at the first, are scarce found to distaste ; 
But, with a little act upon the blood, 
Burn like the mines of sulphur. 
Enter Othello. 
Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, 
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
"Which thou ow'dst yesterday. 

Oth. Ha! ha! false to me? 

To me ? 

Iago. Why, how now, general ? no more of that. 

Oth. A vaunt ! be gone ! thou hast set me on the rack : 
I swear, His letter to be much abused, 
Than but to TcnowH a little. 

Iago. How now, my lord ? 

Oth. "What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust ? 
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me : 
I slept the next night well, was free and merry ; 
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips ; 
He that is robVd, not wanting what is stolen, 
Let him not know it, and he's not robVd at all. 

Iago. I am sorry to hear this. 

Oth. I had been happy, if the general camp, 

Pioneers and all, had tasted her sweet body, 
So Iliad nothing known : O now, for ever, 
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, 
That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
The royal banner; and all quality, 
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! 
And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! 



"Othello? 377 

Again, in Act IY, Scene 1 : 

Iago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip : 

But if I give my wife a handkerchief. — 
Oth. What then? 
Iago. Why, then 'tis hers, my lord ; and, being hers, 

She may, I think, bestow't on any man. 
Oth. She is protectress of her honour too : 

May she give that ? 

The next thing which commands our attention in the 
tragedy of " Othello" is the Koman Catholic tone invol- 
untarily emitted by our poet in various portions of the text. 
The first of these instances occurs in a soliloquy by Iago, near 
the end of the second act : 

" And then for her 

To win the Moor — wereH to renounce his baptism, 

All seals and symbols of redeemed sin — 

His soul is so enfetter'd to her love, 

That she may make, unmake, do what she list, 

Even as her appetite shall play the god 

With his weak function." 

This is a declaration that, though the Moor had embraced 
Christianity, he would renounce his baptism and all the other 
sacraments, seals, and symbols of his faith, such as the cross, 
rosary, etc., if Desdemona should command him. 

Baptism forgives original sin, according to Roman Catho- 
lic doctrine, and when administered to adults it is a seal of 
absolute redemption. Othello could not have been married 
to Desdemona in Yenice without having been made a Chris- 
tian and a Catholic. But for his having been fast married, 
Brabantio would have easily recovered his daughter ; for the 
text shows that no consummation of the marriage had taken 
place at the time of Othello's arraignment before the Senate. 

Again, in the third act (Scene 4), Othello, in the simmer- 
ing prologue of his jealousy, takes Desdemona's hand, and, 
studying its palm, makes use of the following purely Catholic 

expressions : 

" This hand of yours requires 
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, 
Much castigation, exercise devout ; 
JFor here's a young and sweating devil here, 
That commonly rebels." 



378 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Again — 

u That handkerchief — 
The worms were hallowed that did breed the silk." 

In the last scene, the bidding of Desdemona to prepare for 
death by prayer and by confession is very Catholic. Also 
the exclamation of Othello to Emilia : 

" Yon, mistress, 
That have the office opposite to St. Peter, 
And keep the gate of hell." 

Othello's last speech is full of Catholic ideas, such, for in- 
stance, as the reference to Judas in the. lines alluding to 
Christ : 

"Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away, 
Kicher than all his tribe." 

To conclude, it is not certain but that Shakespeare in- 
tended Othello should be a negro. In the sixteenth century 
all the dark-skinned races were called Moors in England, 
which term was made more expressive by being familiarized 
into blackamoor. Curiously enough, the historical Othello 
was not a Moor at all. He was a white man who held the 
position of a Venetian general, and was named Mora, which 
Griraldo Cinthio, probably for better effect, made into Moro, 
and this in time became Moor or blackamoor. 3 The white 
Othello murdered his wife under much the same circum- 
stances as Shakespeare's Othello killed Desdemona; but, in 
the first case, the floor of the murdered woman's room was 
made to sink away and a beam to fall across her body, and 
then, for a still further concealment of the crime, the house 
was set on fire. It was G-iraldo Cinthio, who, finding this 
story to his hand, turned the white hero of this terrific drama 
into a Moor ; and Shakespeare, making a step further into 
the morass with which the infatuated Desdemona had com- 
plicated her unhappy fortunes, terms him, in portions of his 
text, a black. Hunter, however, interprets Shakespeare's 
use of this descriptive word to mean no more than very 

3 " The Stage in Italy," by R. Davey, in " Lippincott's Magazine " for 
January, 1875. 



"Othello." 379 

dark, and this only as in comparison with the fair European. 
",The word Moor," adds Hunter, "was used by English writ- 
ers very extensively, and all the dark races seem by some 
writers to be comprehended under it — Sir Thomas Elyot call- 
ing even the Ethiopians Moors. A distinction was made, 
however, between black Moors and white Moors." 4 

One thing is certain, that Shakespeare made his attractive 
hero black enough to be a shocking and repulsive contrast to 
the fair, confiding, and unsophisticated girl whom he unwor- 
thily tempted from her filial duty and her Caucasian compati- 
bilities. The paternal confidence which he violated to obtain 
possession of her is shown by the rage of his patron Braban- 
tio, when he exclaims, 

u O, thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter? " 

"While the full extent of the incongruity of the alliance, and 
of Othello's breach of confidence, may be seen by the fact 
that Brabantio charges, and can not help believing, that the 
ruin of his daughter must have been brought about by drugs, 
charms, or sorcery. Finally, when Desdemona confesses her 
infatuation, as a thing of her own deliberate will, the un- 
happy father dies of a broken heart— not, however, without 
uttering the warning : 

"Look to her, Moor, if thou hast eyes to see: 
She has deceived her father, and may thee." 

In every point of view this match of the lovely Desde- 
mona with the old black man has been revolting to modern 
audiences, and there is no sense in which it is more repulsive 
than the violence which it inflicts upon the wholesome laws 
of breeding. These laws are more strictly observed in Eng- 
land, perhaps, than anywhere else ; but Shakespeare, in his 
abounding and unceasing love for royalty, probably thought 
he made ample atonement and offset to the prejudice against 
color by representing his black man as descending from a 

line of kings : 

" 'Tis yet to know, 
(Which when I know that boasting is an honour 

Hunter's " Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shake- 
speare," vol. iv, pp. 280, 281. 



380 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being 
From men of royal siege ; and my demerits 
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune 
As this that I have reached." 



shakespeake's legal acquirements. 

Lord Campbell finds the tragedy of " Othello " full of 
evidences that Shakespeare might either have been a lawyer 
or have served as an attorney's clerk. 

" In the very first scene of this play," says his lordship, 
"is a striking instance of Shakespeare's proneness to legal 
phraseology, where Iago, giving an explanation to Roderigo 
of the manner in which he had been disappointed in not ob- 
taining the place of Othello's lieutenant, notwithstanding the 
solicitations in his favor of ' three great ones of the city,' 
says : 

' But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, 
Evades them with a bombast circumstance 
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war, 
And, in conclusion, 
Nonsuits my mediators.' 

u Nonsuiting is known to the learned to be the most dis- 
reputable and mortifying mode of being beaten : it indicates 
that the action is wholly unfounded on the plaintiffs own 
showing, or that there is a fatal defect in the manner in 
which his case has been got up. 

" In the next scene Shakespeare gives us very distinct 
proof that he was acquainted with admiralty law as well as 
with the procedure of Westminster Hall. Describing the 
feat of the Moor in carrying off Desdemona against her fa- 
ther's consent, which might either make or mar his fortune, 
according as the act might be sanctioned or nullified, Iago 
observes : 

1 Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land carack : 
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever ' ; 

the trope indicating that there would be a suit in the High 
Court of Admiralty to determine the validity of the capture. 

"Then follows, in Act I, Scene 3, the trial of Othello be- 
fore the Senate, as if he had been indicted on Stat. 33 Henry 



"Othello." 38 r 

YII, c. 8, for practicing c conjuration, witchcraft, enchant- 
ment, and sorcery, to provoke to unlawful love.' Brabantio, 
the prosecutor, says : 

'She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted 
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks ; 
For nature so preposterously to err .... 
Sans witchcraft could not.' 

"The presiding judge at first seems alarmingly to favor 
the prosecutor, saying : 

'Duxe. "Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding 

Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself, 
And you of her, the bloody book of law 
You shall yourself read in the bitter letter, 
After your own sense.' 

" The Moor, although acting as his own counsel, makes a 
noble and skillful defense, directly meeting the statutable 
misdemeanor with which he is charged, and referring point- 
edly to the very words of the indictment and the act of Par- 
liament : 

* I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 

Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, 

What conjuration, and what mighty magic 

(For such proceedings I am charged withal) 

I won his daughter with.' 

" Having fully opened his case, showing that he had used 
no forbidden arts, and having explained the course which he 
had lawfully pursued, he says, in conclusion : 

4 This only is the witchcraft I have used ; 
Here comes the lady — let her witness it.' 

" He then examines the witness, and is honorably acquitted. 

"Again, the application to Othello to forgive Cassio is. 
made to assume the shape of a juridical proceeding. Thus 
Desdemona concludes her address to Cassio, assuring him of 
her zeal as his solicitor : 

1 I'll intermingle everything he does 
With Cassio's suit : therefore be merry, Cassio ; 
For thy solicitor shall rather die 
Than give thy cause away.' Act III, Scene 3- 



382 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" The subsequent part of the same scene shows that Shake- 
speare was well acquainted with all courts, low as well as 
high ; where Iago asks : 

' Who has a "breast so pure 
But some uncleanly apprehensions 
Keep leets and law-days, and in session sit 
With meditations lawful? ' " 

Here terminate the evidences of Shakespeare's legal ac- 
quirements as detected by his lordship in " Othello." I do 
not hold them to be of any force in the sense his lordship in- 
dicates, but, while he was busied in his search, he might as 
well have added the following speech by Desdemona, in Act 

III, Scene 4 : 

" Beshrew me much, Emilia, 
I was (unhandsome warrior as I am), 
Arraigning his unkindness with niy soul ; 
But now I find I had suborn 1 d the witness, 
And he's indicted falsely." 

This was probably overlooked by his lordship. 



"Ktng Lear! 1 383 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 



Theee is no play of Shakespeare's, except " Hamlet," which 
has elicited more comment than the tragedy of "Lear," and 
among the Germans it is largely regarded as our poet's mas- 
terpiece. JSTo one disputes that it is to be classed with the 
mightiest efforts of his brain, and deserves to be ranked on 
an equal plane with " Hamlet," " Othello," " Troilus," and 
"Macbeth." 

" The myth of King Lear and his three daughters," says 
Gervinus, "is related by Geoffrey of Monmouth, who places 
the death of this prince eight hundred years before Christ." 
From him it was copied by Holinshed, and a play on the sub- 
ject appeared upon the English stage as early as 1594. The 
" Lear " of Shakespeare, however, could not have been writ- 
ten before 1603, because "in that year there appeared a book 
in London, entitled ' Discovery of Popish Imposters,' out of 
which Shakespeare evidently borrowed the names of the dif- 
ferent devils which Edgar mentions in his simulated madness." 
Several circumstances point to the probability that it was 
written in 1605-'6, as it was produced at the Globe Theatre 
on December 26th of the latter year. Three quarto editions 
of it appeared soon afterward (1608), which is satisfactory 
evidence that it was highly popular. 

A previous drama of " King Lier and his Three Daugh- 
ters " had appeared about ten years before, but it was a very 
rude production, and furnished no aid to Shakespeare beyond 
what he had obtained from Holinshed. 

The names of the three daughters of Lear, as given in 



384 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Holinshed, were changed by Shakespeare into Goneril, Ke- 
gan, and Cordelia, and the sub-plot of Gloster, Edmund, and 
Edgar was added by him, in order to intensify the original 
horror. In this Shakespeare succeeds to an extent which out- 
Herods the bloody and unnecessary mutilation of poor Lavi- 
nia, whose hands were cut off and whose tongue cut out by 
the sons of Tamora, merely, as it would seem, because our 
poet had the power of inflicting that capricious outrage. 

In this play of "King Lear" Shakespeare takes the same 
advantage of the confidence of his audience by perpetrating 
the shocking barbarity of plucking out the good old Gloster's 
eyes, as Yictor Hugo does in his wanton and irreparable de- 
struction of the mouth of his beautiful Fantine. Some of the 
commentators complain of this outrage by Shakespeare, like- 
wise of the hanging of Cordelia at the end of the play, and 
ascribe both to the still clinging barbarism of the Elizabethan 
period, from which the nature of Shakespeare does not ap- 
pear, says one of them, to have been entirely free. Gervinus 
thinks, however, we should be wrong in calling that age bar- 
barous in which the individual could attain to such perfection 
of culture as we admire in Shakespeare. I do not quite see 
the force of this argument. 

Nevertheless, let me repeat, it is not justifiable for an au- 
thor to minister to a perverted public taste for the horrible, or 
to perpetrate, through his characters, terrible crimes in our 
presence, for the mere purpose of witnessing, as it were, the 
effects of their revolting force upon our sentiments. I am dis- 
posed to forgive a great deal to Shakespeare ; or, to speak 
more reasonably, to accept the boundless riches he has con- 
ferred upon mankind as a thousand times outweighing the 
faults he has committed, but we can never entirely pardon 
that wanton exercise of his power, shown in cutting out La- 
vinia's tongue, in the plucking out of Gloster's eyes, and in 
the abhorrent hanging of the sweet and low-voiced Cordelia, 
that filial saint, who breathed out her life like a crushed lily 
upon her volcanic father's bosom, simply because the author 
can hold us at his mercy, while transfixing us with horror. 
These are mere abuses of God-given strength. There was no 
need, in order to reach the susceptibilities of his audience, to 



"King Lear." 385 

hang that angel of gratitude and goodness, Cordelia. He 
might have allowed her, in accordance with the merciful 
sweetness of an old ballad which was built upon the play, 
to perish upon the battle-field ; or, better still (according to 
Tate and Coleman's revised edition of the tragedy), to soothe 
the previous shocks of nature with a gleam of peaceful and 
consoling moral moonlight by the nuptials of Edgar and Cor- 
delia. Nothing stood in the way of this denouement, for no 
stern history barred the road against it, while of miseries 
there had already been too many. Indeed, previous to Cor- 
delia's death, we had " supp'd full of horrors." 

The same charge of unnecessary cruelty and unnatural 
depth of wickedness is, I think, to be made against the sec- 
ondary plot of Gloster, Edmund, and Edgar. Edmund, the 
illegitimate son, is made too wicked to be human, and this 
may be remarked of all of Shakespeare's representative mis- 
creants, such, for instance, as Richard III, Iago, Aaron, in 
" Titus Andronicus," and Edmund of the play before us. Men 
in a sound state of health, and in good case with the world, as 
all of the above men were, do not perpetrate deeds of cruelty 
through a mere relish for the deeds themselves ; nor do they 
roll their most horrid acts over like sweet morsels for soliloquy, 
as a cow pleasurably and reflectively turns over her cud. There 
were political reasons for Cornwall to dispose of Gloster, and 
there were strong reasons also why Edmund should not pos- 
sess a very high consideration for the father who had put the 
reproach of bastardy upon him, and who coarsely and openly 
stings him with that shame. But, while these reasons might, 
in the first case, warrant Cornwall in passing sentence of death 
against Gloster, and, in the second, induce Edmund to con- 
spire toward it for the sake of Gloster's honors and estates, 
these merely material objects do not warrant the indifference 
of Edmund to the horrible manner in which it is proposed to 
torture his father, as a preliminary to his destruction : 

Began. Hang him instantly. 

Goneeil. Pluck out his eyes. 

Coenwall. Leave him to my displeasure.— Edmund, keep our own 
sister company; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous 
father are not fit for your beholding. Act III, Scene 7. 

25 



386 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Human nature is not so wicked as this represents it to be, 
nor so bad as it is pictured by the bloody boastfulness of Aaron. 
Left to its impulses, unprompted by motives of revenge or 
profit, human nature is good, and always inclines to good, and 
it is a great libel upon humanity to represent it otherwise. Do 
we not know this from the fact that it is always the impulse 
of a crowd to rescue a man whom accident has subjected to a 
sudden danger? Nay, let a dramatist put villainy upon the 
stage so that its aspect is plain to the spectator, there will 
never be found a person in an audience who will not execrate 
it, and sympathize with the innocent object of its hate. Some 
remnant of mercy lingers in every human heart, and Edmund, 
with the great influence he possessed over the three heads of 
the government, Goueril, Regan, and Cornwall, would not 
have passed quietly out, in view of the terrific intimation 
given him by Cornwall, without asking that the father who had 
reared him, and who had recently adopted him in his heart 
in place of the slandered Edgar, might at least be spared his 
eyes. There is no good purpose served, as I have said before, 
by making any description of humanity too black. 

"We find in this play a very curious piece of evidence bear- 
ing upon the question of Shakespeare's religious faith. In fix- 
ing the date of the authorship of " King Lear," I stated it 
could^not have been written before 1603, because, in that year, 
there appeared a book in London by a Dr. Harsnet, entitled 
" Discovery of Popish Imposters," out of which Shakespeare 
evidently borrowed the names of the different devils which 
Edgar mentions in his simulated madness. This shows that 
Shakespeare, like a thrifty playwright, did not scruple to avail 
himself of current circumstances of great note to attract the 
attention of his audiences, and, by thus turning local excite- 
ments into the text of his pieces, make them talked of and 
more popular. "We find several instances of this, and the fact 
that he did not hesitate to engraft one of these accidental 
current excitements upon such a majestic production of his 
genius as " King Lear " will afford a strong notion how busi- 
ness-like he was. 

The incident I allude to is treated at length by Hunter, 
and it doubtless exercised as great a spell upon the attention 



"King Lear? 387 

of the good people of London in 1603 as the Tichborne case 
did throughout the British Isles in 1873, or as the Beecher 
scandal did in the United States in 1875. The case was one 
of alleged witchcraft, which took place in Lancashire in 1599, 
in the family of a gentleman of good name and means named 
Nicholas Starkey, or Starchy, residing at Cleworth, in Leigh. 
He had a son and a daughter, who, in 1595, being then re- 
spectively of the ages of nine and ten, were seized with fits of 
a novel and alarming character. The family physician could 
not master them, so Mr. Starchy had recourse to one Edmund 
Hartley, a reputed conjurer, who, by the use, as it was alleged, 
" of certain Popish charms and herbs," succeeded in making 
the fits disappear for about a year and a half. The fits hav- 
ing then returned, Mr. Starchy consulted Dr. John Dee, a 
regular physician, but who was as strong a Puritan as Hart- 
ley was a Catholic. A conflict of judgment was, of course, 
the result, and the worthy Dr. Dee advised Mr. Starchy to 
call on some godly Puritan preachers, with whom they might 
consult as to the advisability of purifying the atmosphere by 
a public or private fast. Preachers on both sides soon became 
recruits, but the fits, despite these pious influences, having 
extended themselves to three young girls, wards of Mr. Starchy, 
also to the servants and even to Hartley himself, who had 
become an inmate of the house, the excitement of the •neigh- 
borhood and of the clergy of the whole country became in- 
tense. A religious war of this description could not termi- 
nate in that superstitious age without bloodshed ; so, in due 
course of accusation and testification, Hartley, being con- 
victed of witchcraft (though it seems he did not have the 
conscience to confess it), was honorably hanged. This act of 
justice, with some special barbarities attached to it, which 
the writers only allude to and decline to name, took place in 
1597. 

There being no newspapers at that time, the enjoyment of 
the circumstances was confined mostly to the clergy and to a 
very limited circle of the town and country people, who may 
be characterized as the neighbors of the Starchys. In 1603, 
however, Dr. Samuel Harsnet, who was successively Bishop of 
Chichester and Norwich and Archbishop of York, having oc- 



388 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

casion to attack the Papists, issued a book bearing the follow- 
ing title : 

" A declaration of egregious Popish Impostures to withdraw 
the hearts of His Majesty's subjects from their allegiance, and 
from the truth of the Christian Religion, under the pretense 
of casting out devils, practiced by Edmunds, alias Weston^ 
and divers Roman priests, his wicked associates. Whereunto 
are annexed the copies of the confessions and examinations of 
the parties themselves, which were pretended to be possessed 
and dispossessed ; taken upon oath before His Majesty's Com- 
missioners for Causes Ecclesiastical." 

The excitement which preceded the publication of this 
book by Harsnet had reached London, however, a year or 
two before (1601), and had been ventilated in the taverns, 
which, in the absence of newspapers, were mediums for the 
spread of all information of a general or exciting character. 
The whole affair was, doubtless, discussed at " The Mermaid," 
the celebrated inn to which Ben Jonson, Shakespeare, Row- 
ley, Ford, Massinger, Cotton, "Webster, and Beaumont and 
Fletcher used to resort; and to its discussion there and to 
Shakespeare's familiarity with the circumstances may be at- 
tributed his ridicule of the Puritans in the play of " Twelfth 
Night" ; which latter play is supposed to have been produced 
in 1601-'2, when this excitement about the Starchy witch- 
craft was rife. To this also may be attributed our poet's arti- 
fice of charging the Puritan steward Malvolio with being 
possessed by devils, in order to get him locked up. Likewise 
to this may be assigned his subsequent mockery of the whole 
of Harsnet's statements through the introduction of the ab- 
surd names of some of his devils, such as Smolken, Flibberti- 
gibbet, Moduc, and Mahu, in Edgar's no less Bedlamite rav- 
ings in " King Lear." Thus we have another singular piece 
of proof that Shakespeare invariably attacks, sneers at, de- 
rides, and discounts Protestants and Puritans, and never fails 
to treat Catholics and the Roman Catholic religion with abso- 
lute respect and reverence. 

There is another curious circumstance brought out by 
Hunter in his investigation of this Starchy witchcraft, so far 



"King Lear? 389 

as Shakespeare's impressions of it have operated upon the 
scenes and the text of " Twelfth Night." The line in Act II, 
Scene 5, of " Twelfth Night," which utterly baffled all the 
commentators in their endeavors to convert it into sense — 

"The lady of the Strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe—" 

comes out under this light clearly as a misprint of the word 
Starchy, and the phrase doubtless refers to some incident then 
thoroughly well understood, but which has now, like the in- 
coherent local rant of Nym, become meaningless from the 
mists of time. There is another expression in "Twelfth 
Night" which, under the light that Hunter throws upon the 
motive of Shakespeare's attack upon the Puritans through 
the medium of the Starchy witchcraft delusion, is well worthy 
of observation. 

Hunter thus continues the description of what took place 
in the Starchy family : 

"At the beginning of 1597 the affair became more serious, 
for not only did the fits return to the two children of Mr. 
Starchy, but three other young girls, wards of Mr. Starchy, 
and living in the family with him, the eldest of whom was 
fourteen, were seized in like manner; also Margaret Byron, 
of Salford, a poor kinswoman of Mr. Starchy, who had come 
to Cleworth to make merry, was seized in like manner ; also 
Jane Ashton, a servant of the family ; and even Hartley him- 
self did not escape the infection. Then follows a very re- 
markable account of the symptoms, unlike, I conceive, to 
anything with which medical practice is familiar, shouting, 
dancing, singing, laughing in a most violent and inordinate 
manner, throwing themselves into various postures, talking 
incoherent and ridiculous nonsense / all of which was attrib- 
uted to Satanic agency. At length it began to be suspected 
that Hartley had bewitched them ; the magistracy interfered ; 
information against Hartley for the use of magical arts was 
laid before a neighboring justice of the* peace. He, in fact, 
who had been called in to relieve them was now suspected of 
being himself the person by whose means it was that they had 
suffered so much. The young girls, when brought before the 
magistrate, were speechless, and afterward said that Hartley 



390 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

would not let them speak against Mm. This was considered 
sufficient evidence against Hartley, and, under the pressure of 
the Protestant clergy, he was, as we have seen, convicted and 
hanged." A few days after his execution, some of the girls 
who had been " possessed " appeared before a convocation of 
ministers, when, to resume the language of Hunter, " several 
of them began to blaspheme, and, when the Bible was intro- 
duced, they shouted out in a scoffing manner, l Bible-bable, 
Bible-bable,' continuing this cry for some time. This was 
accompanied by strange and supernatural whooping, so loud 
that the house and the ground shook again." 3 

This explains, and makes clear, the singular expression of 
the Clown in "Twelfth Night" to Malvolio, when the latter 
is in durance, under the suspicion of being possessed with evil 
spirits : 

Clown. Advise you what you say; the minister is here. Malvolio, 
Malvolio, thy wits the heavens restore ! Endeavor thyself to sleep, and 
leave thy vain Mllle-ldbMe. 

Shakespeare was here evidently treating his audience with a 
reference to the current excitement on the subject of the 
Starchy witchcraft, which then possessed the public mind ; 
and the whole of which, under the lights of three subsequent 
centuries of experience, it is not difficult now to understand. 
We can readily perceive that, under the tremendous revolu- 
tion of sentiment which had changed the religious belief of a 
whole nation, the youthful minds of the two Starchy children 
(probably under the lead of the more susceptible imagination 
of the girl) had been converted into a sort of religious ecstasy, 
which, according to the foregoing description of Hunter, would 
seem to have led them into such crazy transports or religious 
hysteria as animate the modern ranting Methodists, or as in- 
spire the howling dervishes of India at the present day. I 
have seen specimens of the latter religious frenzy in the East ? 
while of religious ranters every one has observed enough in- 
stances both in England and America. 

The Starchy girl was probably the first specimen of the 

1 Hunter's "Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare," vol. i, pp. 
384-388. London : J. B. Nichols & Son. 



"King Lear? 391 

Puritan cataleptic Pythoness or ranter ever known to English 
history, and the other females of the Starchy family, doubtless, 
fell into her hysteric raptures from magnetic sympathy. The 
bewildered father, not knowing what to make of these howl- 
ings, and having failed to control the vixenish exhibition, called 
in, as a dernier ressort, a mild, quiet, obscure Catholic clergy- 
man, of humble degree, who probably consented to be regard- 
ed as a conjurer rather than be prosecuted as a Nonconformist. 
He doubtless controlled the children by soothing advice and the 
decorous chantings of his faith, and thus secured a truce to the 
girl's devilment for eighteen months. Then, probably through 
some unmanageable crisis of her female nature, the howlings 
broke forth again, and the result of the relapse was that the 
whole party were taken before a magistrate. Sectarian jeal- 
ousy was thus aroused, and the poor, well-intentioned priest 
was hanged. The other women, who were drawn into these 
cataleptic spasms, were purely the victims of magnetic sym- 
pathy, and all of them doubtless could have been cured in a 
moment by a bucket of cold water, or, like the frenzied per- 
formers of our modern camp-meetings, been restored to their 
tranquillity by the quiet walking away of the audiences. The 
Starchy girl was the first religious ranter we have any knowl- 
edge of, and it is a pity that poor, inoffensive Mr. Hartley 
should have been hanged for her disease. The report that he 
had himself been infected by it is clearly a sectarian fabri- 
cation. 

So powerfully was the public mind agitated with the 
Starchy witchcraft that Harsnet published a second edition of 
his book in 1605, while Shakespeare was at work upon " King 
Lear"; and in this latter edition the Doctor added several 
new illustrations. "In one of these cases," says Hunter, "six 
persons were supposed to be possessed," one of whom Harsnet 
mentions as Mr. Edmund Peckham. " There were not fewer 
than twelve priests engaged, besides Edmunds the Jesuit " ; 
. . . and not the least curious part of the transaction," con- 
tinues Hunter, " is that the possessed had given names to the 
devils who infested them." The list is very remarkable, as com- 
pared with the names used in " King Lear " by Edgar in his 
personation of Poor Tom : Smolken, Jfaho, Modu, Erateretto, 



39 2 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Flibbertigibbet, Hoberdidance, Hoberdicut, being adopted by 
Shakespeare from Harsnet's vocabulary of the fiends. By 
putting these names into the mouth of Edgar, when he was 
acting in the assumed character of a Bedlamite, " it was the 
intention of Shakespeare," adds Hunter, "to cast ridicule 
upon the entire affair of the Starchy family, and to teach the 
people who frequented his theatre to view the whole with 
contempt. The means were nearly the same as those which 
he had employed in ' Twelfth Night ' to produce a similar re- 
sult." Hunter further remarks that " it is worthy of atten- 
tion that the name of Edmund, which originates in a different 
language and at a different period of time from those of Lear, 
Regan, Goneril, and Cordelia, is given by Shakespeare to one 
of his leading characters, apparently from Harsnet's publica- 
tion. The following similitude, however, is still more strik- 
ing. Harsnet says, in his relation about one of the ' pos- 
sessed ' parties, ' Master Maynie had a spice of the Hysterica 
Passio, as seems from his youth : he himself terms it The 
Mother, as you may see in his confession.' " 2 
And thus Shakespeare, in Act II, Scene 4 : 

Leak. O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! 
Hysterica Passio ! down, thou climbing sorrow, 
Thy element's below. 

Shakespeare seems to have been in a strong vein of pla- 
giarism, or rather of self -plagiarism, throughout this play. 
We find him repeating himself in several paragraphs from 
"King John," "Othello," "Julius Csesar," and "Macbeth." 
The first instance of this occurs in Act I, Scene 2, where Ed- 
mund, breathing the very soul of Faulconbridge, makes a re- 
markable duplication of that character by a fresh reference to 
the very period of time which Susanna, our poet's eldest daugh- 
ter, occupied for her irregular debut in the Shakespeare family, 
subsequent to the parents' nuptial knot. Shakespeare was mar- 
ried to Ann Hathaway in December, 1582, and Susanna came 
May 23, 1583, so his first-born appeared just about fourteen 
weeks before its time. Robert Faulconbridge says, in "King 

2 Hunter, vol. xi, p. 270. 



"King Lear!' 393 

John," when arguing against his bastard brother's right to 
his father's estate : 

"And I have heard my father speak himself 
When this same lusty gentleman was got. 
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd 
His land to me ; and took it on his oath 
That this, my mother's son, was none of his : 
And if he were, he came into the world 
Full fourteen weeks oefore the course of time" 

Act /, Scene 1. 

Now, in " Lear," Edmund, the bastard son of Gloster, puts 
his case as follows : 

Edm. Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law 
My services are bound; wherefore should I 
Stand in the plague of custom ; and permit 
The curiosity of nations to deprive me, 
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines 
Lag of a brother J Why bastard? wherefore base ? 
When my dimensions are as well compact, 
My mind as generous, and my shape as true, 
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us 
With base ? with baseness ? bastardy ? base, base ? 
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
More composition and fierce quality, 
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, 
Got 'tween asleep and awake? 

Another plagiarism upon the Faulconbridge of "King 
John " appears in Act II, Scene 2, where Kent says to Corn- 
wall, 

"Yes, sir; but anger hath a privilege." 

It will be seen that this is a conspicuous imitation of 
Pembroke's reply to the Bastard, as they stand quarreling 
over the dead body of Arthur : 

Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath Ms privilege. 
Bast. 'Tis true ; to hurt his master, no man else. 

We next find Edmund repeating the trick which Cassius 
played on Brutus, by showing to Gloster a letter he had 
forged to the disparagement of Edgar, but which he represents 
had been " thrown in at the casement " of his chamber, as 



394 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Cassius had contrived to have done to Brutus. In the same 
scene Edmund devises an interview between himself and Edgar, 
for the incredulous Gloster to overhear, in the course of which, 
by the artful discussion of a different topic, the singular scene 
between Iago, Cassio, Bianca, and Othello is repeated. 

Another instance occurs in Act III, Scene 7, where Glos- 
ter, in imitation of an expression by Macbeth, says, 

" I am tied to the stake, and I must stand the course." 

The expression of Macbeth is, 

" They have tied me to a stake : I cannot fly, 
But, bear-like, I must fight the course." 

Let me here mention, as it is an isolated case, in support 
of my views as to the probable high rank of Timon's steward, 
that in this play of "Lear" we find a steward writing letters 
under Goneril's dictation (but using his own form of expres- 
sion) ; thus showing that, in acting in this way for one of the 
three heads of the then British Government, he, though a 
steward, was exercising the function of a privy councilor. 

The course of the play now brings us to the actual pluck- 
ing out of Gloster's eyes, and, as it presents an instance of 
true worthiness in a mere serving-man, it thus to some extent 
seems to run against the theory that Shakespeare never makes 
a hero of a humble person or graces him with voluntary 
virtue. I will give the matter at sufficient length for the 
situation to be understood. 

The scene is in the castle of Gloster, who is entertaining 
Regan and her husband, the Duke of Cornwall, as his guests. 
During their stay, Edmund has taken the opportunity thus 
afforded to him to betray to the Duke the fact that his father 
had received a letter from the invading forces, and had fur- 
nished to King Lear the means to escape to Dover, and put 
himself under their protection. Upon this the following ter- 
rific scene ensues : 

Act III, Scene 7. — A Boom in Gloster's Castle. 
Enter the Duke of Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, Edmund, and Servants. 

Corn. Post speedily to my lord your husband ; show him this letter — 
the army of France is landed — seek out the villain Gloster. 

[Exeunt some of the Servants. 



"King Lear." 395 

Keg. Hang him instantly. 
Gon. Pluck out his eyes. 

Coen. Leave him to my displeasure. — Edmund, keep you your sister 
company ; the revenges we are bound to take upon your traitorous father 
are not fit for your beholding. . . . 

Enter Steward. 
How now ? Where's the king ? 
Stew. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd him hence : 
Some five or six aud thirty of his knights, 
Hot questrists after him, met him at gate ; 
Who, with some other of the lord's dependents, 
Are gone with him towards Dover ; where they boast 
To have well-armed friends. 
Coen. Get horses for your mistress. 

Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 

[Exeunt Goneeil and Edmund. 
Coen. Edmund, farewell. — {To the Servants.) Go, seek the traitor 
Gloster, 
Pinion him like a thief, bring him before us : 

[Exeunt other Servants. 
Though well we may not pass upon his life 
Without the form of justice, yet our power 
Shall do a courtesy to our wrath, which men 
May blame, but not control. Who's there? The traitor? 
Re-enter Servants, with Glostee. 
Reg. Ingrateful fox ! 'tis he. 
Coen. Bind fast his corky arms. 
Glo. What mean your graces ? — Good my friends, consider 

You are my guests: do me no foul play, friends. 
Coen. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him. 

Reg. Hard, hard : — filthy traitor ! 

Glo. Unmerciful lady as you are, I'm none. 
Coen. To this chair bind him : — Villain, thou shalt find — 

[Regan plucks his beard. 
Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done 
To pluck me by the beard. 

The winged vengeance overtake such children. 
Coen. See>t shalt thou never: — Fellows, hold the chair: — 
Upon these eyes of thine I']] set my foot. 

[Glostee is held down in his chair, while Coenwall 
plucks out one of his eyes, and sets his foot on it. 
Glo. He that will think to live till he be old 

Give me some help : — O cruel ! O ye gods ! 
Reg. One side will mock another; the other too. 
Coen. If you see vengeance — 



396 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Sery. Sold your hand, my lord ; 

I have served you ever since I was a child ; 
But better service have I never done you 
Than now to bid you hold. 
Keg. How now, you dog ! 

Seev. If you did wear a beard upon your chin, 

Td shake it on this quarrel. What do you mean ? 
Coen. My villain ! [Draws and runs at him> 

Seev. Nay, then come on, and take the chance of anger. 

[Draws. They fight. Cornwall is wounded. 
Beg. Give me thy sword. [To another Servant.'] A peasant stand 
up thus! 

[Snatches a sword, comes behind, and stabs him. 
Seev. O, I am slain! — My lord, you have one eye left 

To see some mischief on him : — 1 [Dies. 

Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it : Out, vile jelly! 
Where is thy lustre now? 

[Tears out Gloster's other eye and throws it on the ground. 
Glo. All dark and comfortless. — Where's my son Edmund? 
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature, 
To quit this horrid act. 

[Exit Cornwall, led by Began. Servants 
unbind Glostee, and lead him out. 

1 Seev. Til never care what wickedness I do 

If this man come to good. 

2 Seev. If she live long, 

And, in the end, meet the old course of death, 
Women will all turn monsters. 

1 Seev. Let's follow the old earl, and get the Bedlam 

To lead him where he would ; his roguish madness 
Allows itself to anything. 

2 Seev. Go thou ; Pll fetch some flax, and whites of eggs, 

To apply to his bleeding face. Now, Heaven help him! 

[Exeunt severally. 

Here are courage and worthy purpose, for the first time, 
accorded by our poet to a humble man. I give it fully and 
for all that it is worth. But it must be observed that the 
incident is one of meager bounds and momentary passion, 
and it is not amiss to notice that the servant who rebels 
against his lord in the interest of humanity meets the imme- 
diate reward of death. It may also be observed that this 
scene took place in G-loster's own castle, and that the humanity 
and kindness of the two other servants were the irrepressible 



"King Lear." 397 

instinct of retainers who had been brought up and nurtured 
in the family of the outraged victim. Moreover, their rude 
pity was necessary as a foil and setting to the wolfish cruelty 
of the main actors. So far as Shakespeare is concerned, there- 
fore, it was the dramatic artist, not the man, who spoke through 
the protesting serfs. 

There is but little left in this play which, at present, re- 
quires our attention ; but, as Catholic symptoms of the relig- 
ious complexion of our poet's mind are next in order, I wish 
to direct attention to the following expressions : In Act III 
Scene 2, the Fool says to Lear, while the latter is invoking 
the full fury of the tempest on the heath, 

" O mmcle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain- 
water out o' door." 

Again, the Fool says, during the same storm, 

" No heretics burn'd but wenches' suitors." 

A more noteworthy instance occurs, however, bearing upon 
this portion of our theme, in the lines describing how Cor- 
delia received the news of the sufferings of the poor old king, 

ner father : 

" There she shook 
The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
And clamour moisten'd : then away she started 
To deal with grief alone." 

In connection with this scene, let me not pass the expres- 
sion of the Gentleman, who, looking with agony and commis- 
eration upon the sufferings of Lear, exclaims, 

" A sight most pitiful in the meanest wretch ; 
Past speaMnglof in a Icing ! " 

Here we recognize, once more, the worshipful leaning of 
our poet for a royal person. 

LEGAL ACQUIREMENTS. 

I have but one further task of observation left to my scope 
of duty, in connection with this play, and that is to present 
the evidence which Lord Chief Justice Campbell finds of 
Shakespeare's legal acquirements. 



398 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" In Act I, Scene 4, the Fool," says his lordship, " makes 
a lengthy rhyming speech, containing a great many trite but 
useful moral maxims, such as, 

' Have more than thou showest, 
Speak less than thou knowest,' etc. 

which the testy old king found rather flat and tiresome. 

1 Leae. This is nothing, fool. 

Tool. Then, 'tis like the breath of an unfeed lawyer; you gave me 
nothing for it. 

" This seems to show that Shakespeare," says my Lord 
Campbell, " had frequently been present at trials in courts of 
justice, and now speaks from his own recollection. There is 
no trace of such a proverbial saying as, 'like the breath of an 
unfeed lawyer,' while all the world knows the proverb, 'Who- 
soever is his own counsel has a fool for his client. . . .' I 
confess that there is some foundation for the saying that 'a 
lawyer's opinion which costs nothing is worth nothing'; but 
this can only apply to opinions given off-hand, in the course 
of common conversation, where there is no time for deliber- 
ation, where there is a desire to say what will be agreeable, 
and where no responsibility is incurred. 

" In Act II, Scene 1," continues Lord Campbell, " there 
is a remarkable example of Shakespeare's use of technical 
legal phraseology. Edmund, the wicked illegitimate son of 
the Earl of Grloster, having succeeded in deluding his father 
into the belief that Edgar, the legitimate son, had attempted 
to commit parricide, and had been prevented from accom- 
plishing the crime by Edmund's tender solicitude for the 
Earl's safety, the Earl is thus made to express a determination 
that he would disinherit Edgar (who was supposed to have 
fled from justice), and that he would leave all his possessions 
to Edmund : 

Glo. Strong and fasten'd villain ! 

All ports I'll bar; the villain shall not 'scape. 

Besides, his picture 
I'll send far and near, that all the kingdom 



"King Lear!' 399 

May have due note of him ; 3 and of my land, 
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means 
To make thee capable. 

"In forensic discussions respecting legitimacy, the ques- 
tion is put, whether the individual whose status is to be deter- 
mined is 'capable,' i. e., capable of inheriting; but it is only 
a lawyer who would express the idea of legitimizing a natural 
son by simply saying, 

'I'll work the means to make him capable.' 

" Again, in Act III, Scene 5, we find Edmund trying to 
incense the Duke of Cornwall against his father for having 
taken part with Lear when so cruelly treated by Goneril and 
Regan. The two daughters had become the reigning sover- 
eigns, to whom Edmund professed to owe allegiance. Corn- 
wall, having created Edmund Earl of Grloster, says to him, 

1 Seek out where thy father is, that he may be ready for our apprehen- 
sion.' 

On which Edmund observes aside, 

' If I find him comforting the king, it will stuff his suspicion more 
fully.' 

"Upon this Dr. Johnson has the following note: 'He 
uses the word [comforting] in the juridical sense, for support- 
ing, helping.' 

" The indictment against an accessory after the fact for 
treason charges that the accessory ' comforted ' the principal 
traitor after knowledge of the treason. 

"In Act III, Scene 6, the imaginary trial of the two un- 
natural daughters is conducted in a manner showing a perfect 
familiarity with criminal procedure. 

"Lear places the two Judges on the bench, viz., Mad Tom 
and the Fool. He properly addresses the former as ' the 
robed man of justice' ; but, although both were i of the com- 
mission,' I do not quite understand why the latter is called 

8 One would suppose that photography, by which this mode of catch- 
ing criminals is now practiced, had been invented before the reign of 
King Lear. 



4-00 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

his ( yokefellow of equity,' unless this might be supposed to 
be a special commission, like that which sat on Mary Queen 
of Scots, including Lord Chancellor Audley. 

" Lear causes G-oneril to be arraigned first, and then pro- 
ceeds as a witness to give evidence against her, to prove an 
overt act of high treason : 

'I here take my oath before this honourable assembly, she kicked 
the poor king, her father.' 

" But the trial could not be carried on with perfect regu- 
larity on account of Lear's madness, and, without waiting for 
a verdict, he himself sentences Regan to be anatomized. 

' Then, let them anatomize Regan ; see what breeds about her 
heart.' " 

All I have to remark in regard to the foregoing is, that, 
notwithstanding the great diligence which these extracts ex- 
hibit on the part of Lord Campbell in examining the text, his 
lordship has singularly enough overlooked, or, perhaps, I 
should rather say, intentionally left out, two of the most 
striking evidences of Shakespeare's knowledge of the adminis- 
tration of the law, as it then seemed to be practiced in Great 
Britain, which his works afford. Both of these instances 
occur in the famous scene in Act IV, Scene 6, where the mad 
old king, fantastically dressed in flowers, holds a mock court 
upon the heath : 

Lear (to Gloster). Look with thine ears. See how yon' justice rails 
upon yon' simple thief. Hark, in thine ear. Change places ; and, handy- 
dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? 

Again: 

" Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ; 
Roles and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy' 's straw will pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say none; I'll able 4 'em. 

[Offers money. 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuseds lips." 

4 This word is a contraction of the legal word enable. A strange over- 
sight, indeed, for the very legal Lord Campbell.— G. W. 



"King Lear!' 401 

Surely Lord Campbell, who accepted his first legal in- 
stance in this play from the mouth, of a fool, as to an " unfeed 
lawyer," might have given some attention to the foregoing 
powerful lines, though from the lips of a madman. 

The illustration, however, does not reflect much credit 
upon the administration of justice, of which Lord Campbell 
had been such " a shining pillar," while it would be perfectly 
destructive to Lord Bacon, who had been degraded from the 
bench and sent to prison for taking bribes. Perhaps the 
former idea is the reason of Lord Campbell's silence on this 
most obvious and remarkable legal point. Of one thing we 
may be certain, Bacon would never have written these latter 
allusions to judicial corruption ; or, if he had done so in 1605, 
when "Lear" was composed, he would have expunged them 
in 1623, after he had been convicted of bribery, when the 
Shakespearean folio was revised and published. In this I 
hold the play of " Lear " alone to be conclusive against the 
pretension that Bacon could possibly have been the author of 
the plays of Shakespeare. If not of " Lear," the author of 
" Lear," whoever he was, was greater than he. 
26 



402 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTEE XXXYIII. 



The basis of the story of " Hamlet " is found in the Latin 
of the Danish historian, Saxo Grammaticus, who died about 
1204, from whence it found its way, with some alterations, 
into Belief orest's collection of novels, which was begun in 
1564, the year of our poet's birth. From this receptacle 
Shakespeare doubtless took the narrative, and gave it the 
fashion it at present wears. 

" < Hamlet ' was most probably written," says Kenny, " to- 
ward the end of 1601, or the commencement of 1602, and first 
acted in the spring or early summer of the latter year." The 
first edition of the play was issued in the year 1603, under the 
following title : 

" The Tragical History of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, 
by William Shakespeare, as it hath been divers times acted by 
His Highness' Servants in the City of London, also, in the 
two Universities of Cambridge and Oxford, and elsewhere. 
At London, printed for N. L. and John Trundell, 1603." 

"There is an entry of this play for publication," says 
Hunter, "on the books of the Stationers' Company, under 
date of July 26, 1602." From the title-page, as above, it 
seems to have been several times acted, and the testimony of 
Harvey, cited by Steevens, seems to be decisive of the exist- 
ence of a play called " Hamlet " in 1598, and of the fact of 
that play having been written by the same hand which pro- 
duced " Yenus and Adonis " and the " Kape of Lucrece." 

"During the first ten years of Shakespeare's dramatic 
career," says Dowden, " he wrote quickly, producing, if we 



"Hatnlet." 403 

supposed he commenced authorship at the age of twenty-six 
(1590), some eight or nine comedies, and the whole of the 
great series of English historical dramas, which, when ' Henry 
Y ' was written, Shakespeare probably looked upon as com- 
plete. In this decade only a single tragedy appears — ' Romeo 
and Juliet.' This play is believed to have occupied our poet's 
attention for several years, but, dissatisfied, probably, with the 
first form which it assumed, he worked upon it again, rewrit- 
ing and enlarging it. But it is not unlikely that, even then, 
he considered his powers to be insufficiently matured for the 
great dealing, as an artist, with the human life and passion 
which tragedy demands. Then, after an interval of about five 
years, a second tragedy, 6 Hamlet,' was produced. Over ' Ham- 
let,' as over 'Romeo and Juliet,' it is supposed that Shake- 
speare labored long and carefully. Thus it came about that 
Shakespeare, at nearly forty years of age, was the author of 
but two tragedies." x 

" The exact mode of the preparation of this tragedy," says 
Hunter, "will probably never be fully ascertained. Shake- 
speare seems to have worked upon it in a manner different 
from his usual practice. We discover, not only that large 
additions were made to the play after it had been presented 
at the theatres, but that very material changes were made in 
the distribution of the scenes and the order of events. This 
seems to show that there was no period when the poet sat 
down to his work, having a settled project in his mind, and 
meaning to work out the design continuously from the open- 
ing to the catastrophe; and this may be, after all, the true 
reason of the difficulty which has always been felt of deter- 
mining what the character really is in which the poet meant 
to invest the hero of the piece. It may account also for the 
introduction of the scenes which appear to have been written 
for the sake of themselves alone ; beautiful in themselves, but 
neither necessary for the maintenance of a general harmony 
in the whole nor for the carrying on the business of the story. 
To this want of continuity in the composition of the piece is 



1 Dowden's " Shakespeare's Mind and Art," pp. 95-98. King & Co., 
London, 1875. 



404 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

also to be attributed the great falling off in the latter portions, 
and the lame and impotent manner in which what ought to 
be the grand catastrophe is brought about. . . . Had the poet 
proceeded continuously, according to what (from this opening) 
may be concluded to have been his first design, and shown us 
the young prince made acquainted with his father's death by 
the supernatural visitation, and, at the same time, engaged to 
avenge it on his uncle — this, with such an underplot as is here 
wrought in of his attachment to Ophelia, the effect of his 
assumed madness upon her, the impediments arising out of 
this attachment, to the execution of the main purpose, would 
have formed the plot of as magnificent a tragedy as hath ever 
been conceived from the days when first the more awful pas- 
sions were represented on the stage." a 

The question whether Hamlet's madness was real or as- 
sumed has elicited a greater amount of dispute among the 
commentators than any other problem in our poet's works, and 
upon this point the transcendental German Shakespeareans 
have hung more illusory theories than upon all other disputed 
points of our poet's philosophy combined. Indeed, could the 
spirit of the Sweet Swan of Avon revisit the glimpses of our 
moon, and be asked to review and pass its judgment upon the 
multitude of meanings of which the critics have accused his 
obscurer paragraphs, it would probably be glad to vanish 
back, and submit with comparative satisfaction to a few weeks 
of fresh fires in supplementary purgation, rather than follow 
the toilsome task to its perplexing end. 

Kenny, in treating of the madness question, shrewdly 
says that " the dramatist has sometimes run closely and even 
inextricably together the feigned madness and the real men- 
tal perturbation of Hamlet. We should have had no difii- 
culty," he continues, "in accepting this representation of the 
character, if it were only consistently maintained. It would 
even, under the circumstances, have been perfectly natural ; 
but we find that, in his real mood, Hamlet retains throughout 
the drama, as throughout the story, the perfect possession of 
his faculties ; his only confidant, Horatio, must feel quite as- 

2 Hunter, vol. ii, p. 206. 



"Hamlet." 405 

sured upon that point, and we are compelled, in spite of a 
few equivocal passages, entirely to share his conviction." 
This view of Kenny's is, in my opinion, the correct one, for 
had Shakespeare intended to represent Hamlet as being ac- 
tually mad, the fact could not have been concealed from Ho- 
ratio, who possessed his entire confidence, and on whom he 
depended till the last. There are several other reasons sup- 
porting this conclusion, but they have been so often given, it 
is not necessary I should repeat them. 

The truth is, as Dowden states it, that " Shakespeare cre- 
ated Hamlet a mystery, and, therefore, it is for ever sugges- 
tive and never wholly explicable." I should rather put it 
that Shakespeare conceived his idea of the character of Ham- 
let in a mystified and confused sort of mood ; that he worked 
upon it for a long while without reshaping his initial errors, 
and that, while enriching it with casual beauties, he kept on 
loading it with new errors and fresh contradictions. Every 
writer accustomed to much composition knows that if one 
does not start with a clear and definite conception, it is almost 
impossible to become clear afterward, even by the most labor- 
ious efforts of subsequent pruning or development. " Now, 
it is a remarkable, circumstance," says Dowden, "that, while 
the length of the play in the second quarto considerably ex- 
ceeds its length in the earlier form of 1603, and thus mate- 
rials for the interpretation of Shakespeare's purpose in the 
play are offered in greater abundance, the obscurity does not 
diminish, but, on the contrary, deepens, and, if some questions 
appear to be solved, other questions in greater number spring 
into existence: 3 While this might have been the mental case 
with Shakespeare, it is not likely that this mystery, contra- 
diction, and uncertainty in Hamlet's character could have 
proceeded from the mind of Sir Francis Bacon, who was 
always clear, congruous, explicit, and unmistakable in his 
meaning, as the prince of logicians and demonstrators was 
sure to be. 

But it is this dreamy confusion, this romantic uncertainty 
of mood, which gives to the German critics their vast oppor- 
tunities for speculation and display. Some of them have 
told us that they can not account for the wonderful charm of 



406 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

this play above all the others of our author, but it seems to 
me that the secret of the great interest which the kind-hearted 
general public take in the character of Hamlet lies in the 
wrongs which he suffered, and the filial gentleness and reli- 
gious subordination he exhibits in receiving the command 
and exhortations of his father's ghost. He is the disinherited 
prince of the fairy tale, whom we love because he has been 
betrayed, and in whom our interest increases as misfortune 
accumulates upon him. There is no witchcraft and no won- 
der in all this, as human nature when unbiased by self-inter- 
est is inherently and invariably good. The preference which 
the German critics show for Hamlet is probably due to the 
mystery which our poet has allowed to dwell with the char- 
acter, after all his endeavors to lift himself out of the con- 
tradictions of his first sketch. But, as the Germans claim, 
and as Mezieres and other French critics admit, Hamlet repre- 
sents the German national mind, and Elze declares that Frei- 
ligrath, one of the German commentators, was right in ex- 
claiming, " Germany is Hamlet ! " 8 

The German commentators, as a rule, do not favor, or, I 
might rather say, will not tolerate the idea of Shakespeare 
being a Roman Catholic, and even honest and straightforward 
Gervinus seems willing to contribute a gentle little artifice 
to mislead us on this point. In analyzing the character of 
the melancholy prince, he remarks : " He is essentially a man 
of letters ; he carries memorandum books with him ; allusions 
to his reading are ready to him; in advanced years he was 
still at the university, and longs to return there; not like 
Laertes, to Paris, but at Wittenberg, a name honored by the 
Protestcmt hearts of England." i 

The obvious object of this latter expression is to suggest 
that Wittenberg, during Hamlet's period, was a Protestant 
seat of learning, and that he consequently was a Protestant. 
But this pleasant little artifice can not prevail, as the Danish 
historian, who first wrote the story of " Hamlet," died in 1204. 
The theory of the innuendo also meets with an equally potent 

3 Elze, p. 246. Macinillan & Co., London, 1874. 

4 Gervinus, p. 567. Scribner & Co., New York. 



"Ham let? 407 

difficulty in the fact that, if the prince had been educated in 
a Protestant academy, its religious formula vanished with a 
singular rapidity, while his mind, at the same time, became 
imbued with the Catholic ritual with a suddenness akin to 
magic. 

The whole of the first act is filled with Eoman Catholic 
doctrine, imagery, and reference. The theory of purgatory 
and exorcism are conspicuously declared upon the entrance 
into the first scene of the unsettled Ghost, by the exclamation 
of Marcellus: 

" Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio ! " 

But the Ghost will not be spoken to, and vanishes with all 
the dignity of sepulchral reserve. It soon reenters, apparent- 
ly in search of Hamlet, but it again refuses to reply to the 
question of Horatio, and disappears at the crowing of the cock. 
Thereupon Horatio and Marcellus give the following exposi- 
tion of the Catholic theory of purgatory * 

Mar. 'Tis gone ! 

"We do it wrong, being so majestical, 

To offer it the show of violence ; 

For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 

And our vain blows malicious mockery. 
Bee. It was about to speak, when the cock crew. 
Hoe. And then it started like a guilty thing 

Upon a fearful summons. I have heard 

The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, 

Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat 

Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning, 

Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 

The extravagant and erring spirit hies 

To his confine ; and of the truth herein 

This present object made probation. 
Mae. It faded on the crowing of the cock. 

Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 

The bird of dawning singeth all night long ; 

And then, they say, no spirit can wallc abroad ; 

The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, 

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, 

So hallowed and so gracious is the time. 



408 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The above scene is intricately Catholic, from first to last. 
In the second scene of the same act, Hamlet says : 

" 0, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, 
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! 
Or, that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter ! " 

Catholics, as we have said before, do not extend the fu- 
neral rites of the church to suicides, nor permit them to be 
buried in consecrated ground. Protestants, on the other 
hand, do not trouble themselves about the matter. At the 
end of this soliloquy, Hamlet expresses another Catholic dog- 
ma, in the imputation of incest to a marriage with a deceased 

brother's wife : 

Within a month'; 
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
Had left the flushing of her galled eyes, 
She married. most wicked speed, to post 
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ; 
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good. 

Again, we find this thoroughly Catholic doctrine enun- 
ciated repeatedly in the scenes between Hamlet and the 

Ghost : 

Enter Ghost. 

Hoe. Look, my lord, it comes ! 

Ham. AngeU and ministers of grace defend us ! 5 
Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned, 
Bring with thee airs from heaven or Masts from hell, 
Be thy intents wicked or charitable, 
Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, 
That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet, 
King, father, royal Dane : 0, answer me : 
Let me not burst in ignorance ! hut tell, 
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, 
Have burst their cerements ? why the sepulchre 

5 " It is quite fair to ask whether such an exclamation would come 
more easily into a Catholic poet's head or into that of a Protestant poet? 
A Protestant thinks, and probably always did think, that the right thing 
to do is always to go directly to God for help : indeed, one does not see 
what he wants a mediator for at all. But a Catholic's natural resource in 
danger is to angels and other ministers of grace." — London " Catholic 
Progress " of April, 1875. 



"Hamlet." 409 

Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, 

Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, 

To cast thee up again ! What may this mean, 

That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, 

Kevisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 

Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature, 

So horribly to shake our disposition, 

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? 

Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? 
Hoe. It beckons you to go away with it, 

As if it some impartment did desire 

To you alone. 
Mar. Look, with what courteous action 

It waves you to a more removed ground : 

But do not go with it. 
Hor. No, by no means. 

Ham. It will not speak ; then I will follow it. 
Hor. Do not, my lord. 
Ham. Why, what should be the fear ? 

I do not set my life at a pin's fee ; 

And for my soul, what can it do to that, 

Being a thing immortal as itself f 

It waves me forth again! I'll follow it. [Exit. 

Scene 2. — Another Part of the Platform. 
Enter Ghost and Hamlet. 
Ham. Whither wilt thou lead me ? speak, I'll go no farther. 
Ghost. Mark me. 
Ham. I will. 

Ghost. My hour is almost come, 

When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames 

Must render up myself. 
Ham. Alas, poor ghost. 

Ghost. Pity me not ; but lend thy serious hearing 

To what I shall unfold. 
Ham. Speak ; I am bound to hear. 

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. 
Ham. What? 
Ghost. I am thy father's spirit: 

Doomed for a certain time to walk the night, 

And for the day confined to lasting fires, 

Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, 

Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid 

To tell the secrets of my prison house, 

I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 

Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, 



410 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, 

Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 

And each particular hair to stand an-end, 

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : 

But this eternal blazon must not he 

To ears of flesh and blood. — List, list, O list ! — 

If thou didst ever thy dear father love, — 
Ham. O God! 

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. 
Ham. Murder ? 
Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; 

But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. 
Ham. Haste me to know 't, that I, with wings as swift 

As meditation, or the thoughts of love, 

May sweep to my revenge. 
Ghost. I find thee apt ; 

And duller should'st thou be, than the fat weed 

That rots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf, 

Wouldst thou not stir in this ; now, Hamlet, hear. 

'Tis given out, that sleeping in mine orchard, 

A serpent stung me : so the whole ear of Denmark 

Is by a forged process of my death 

Rankly abused ; but know, thou noble youth, 

The serpent that did sting thy father's life 

Now wears his crown. 
Ham. O, my prophetic soul ! my uncle ? 
Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, 

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand, 
Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despoiled ; 
Out off even in the blossom of my sin, 

UnhouseVd, disappointed, unaneled : 6 

No reckoning made, but sent to my account 

"With all my imperfections on my head : 

0, horrible! 0, horrible! most horrible!' 1 
If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not ; 
Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 
A couch for luxury and damned incest. 
But, however thou pursuest this act, 

6 According to Hunter, this means without the viaticum and last sacra- 
ment of extreme unction ; though he is inclined to change the word " dis- 
appointed" into "unassoiled," or "unabsolved." 

7 This is unmistakable Catholic agony at the idea of the pains of pur- 
gatory. 



"Hamlet." 411 

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
Against thy mother aught : leave her to heaven, 
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, 
To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once. 
The glow-worm shows the matin to he near, 
And ''gins to pale his uneffectual fire : 

Adieu ! adieu ! Hamlet, remember me. {Exit. 

Ham. 6>, all you host of heaven ! O earth ! What else ? 

In Act II, Scene 2, Polonius, while endeavoring to explain 
the character of Hamlet's madness to the Queen, uses the fol- 
lowing language : 

" And now remains, 
That we find out the cause of this effect ; 
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect; 
For this effect defective, comes by cause." 

" These lines," says the " Catholic Progress " (London), 
for April, 1875, " look very like a reference by the author to 
St. Augustine, not unlikely to have been culled from some 
Catholic book of devotion." And to this I may suggest that 
Shakespeare's devout mother, Mary Arden, must have had 
constantly some such book of religious discipline, always 
within the boy's reach, about the house. u St. Augustine says 
that, to look for causes of ^flection from good, seeing that 
they are ^ficient and not efficient, is much the same as wish- 
ing to see darkness or to hear silence." 

In the opening of the third act we have the singular scene 
of feigned madness and real distraction which takes place 
between Hamlet and Ophelia; in which scene, perceiving 
that the weak, docile girl is playing the spy upon him, at the 
direction of her father, and has told him a falsehood in the 
interest of those against him, he harshly orders her off to a 
nunnery — the inevitable refuge for our poet's distressful hero- 
ines — in a tone which, I can not but think, was largely justified 
by her petty perfidy. I have already remarked, when treat- 
ing of " Love's Labour's Lost," " Much Ado about Nothing," 
" Measure for Measure," " Merchant of Venice," " Comedy 
of Errors," and other plays, Shakespeare's habit of sending 
all of his disappointed ladies to nunneries. That course could 
hardly be attributed to Lord Bacon or regarded as a Protes- 
tant proclivity. 



412 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

We have further evidences of the Catholic tone and color 
of our author's mind, in the memorable scene between Ham- 
let and his mother in the same act. The Ghost appears, but 
she does not see it, and upon its disappearance she charges 
the vision to her agitated son's distraught condition : 

Hamlet. Mother, for love of grace, 

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, 
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks : 
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ; 
Whiles rank corruption mining all within, 
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; 
Repent what's past : avoid what is to come : 
And do not spread the compost on the weeds, 
To make them ranker. 

Let me not pass over, at this point, the first exclamation 
of Hamlet, at the opening of the above scene, when, seeing 
the Ghost enter, he exclaims, 

" A king of shreds and patches : 
Save me and hover o'er me with your wings, 
You heavenly guard / " 

This, again, exhibits the Catholic tendency toward the 
intermediation of the saints. 

We come now, in the progress of this act, to Shakespeare's 
adoration for royalty and contemptuous estimation of the 
" common people." 

" The cease of majesty 
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel, 
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, 
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things 
Are mortised and adjoin'd ; which, when it falls, 
Each small annexment, petty consequence, 
Attends the boist'rous ruin. Never alone 
Did the king sigh, hut with a general groan.' 1 ' 1 

Act III, Scene 3. 
Act IV, Scene 3. 

Enter King, attended. 
King. I have sent to seek him, and to find the body. 
How dangerous is it, that this man goes loose ! 
Yet must not we put the strong law on him : 



"Hamlet" 413 

He*8 loved of the distracted multitude, 
Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes ; 
And where His so, the offender's scourge is weighed, 
But never the offence. . . . 

Scene 5. 
King. . . . The people muddied, 

Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers, 
For good Polonius' death : 

Gent, {to the King). Save youself, my lord ; 

The ocean overpeering of his list, 

Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste, 

Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, 

O'erbears your officers ; the rabble call him lord ; 

And as the world were now but to begin, 

Antiquity forgot, custom not known, 

The ratifiers and props of every word, 

They cry, Choose we; Laertes shall be king ! 

Caps, 6 hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, 

Laertes shall be king, Laertes king ! 
Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry ! 

0, this is counter, you false Danish dogs. 

Enter Laeetes, armed, Danes following. 
King. What is the cause, Laertes, 

That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ? — 

Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ; 

Therms such divinity doth hedge a king, 

That treason can but peep to what it would, 

Acts little of his will. — Tell me, Laertes, 

Why thou art thus incensed ; — Let him go, Gertrude. 

The opening of the fifth act brings us to what is regarded, 
by Lord Chief Justice Campbell, as the most complete piece 
of evidence of the legal acquirements of Shakespeare to be 
found in all his works. I allude to the law in regard to felo 

8 Caps are always the symbol with Shakespeare. of the laboring classes, 
from the fact that an act of Parliament was passed in England, toward 
the close of the fifteenth century, requiring all mechanics and laboring 
men to wear caps. Hence, the line of Rosalind, in "As You Like It " : 

"Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps " ; 

and hence, also, the Liberty cap of the old French Revolution, which 
meant liberty for the masses. , 



414 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

de se, which is developed so curiously, and yet so correctly, 
by the two gravediggers in their humorous discussion in the 
churchyard over the question whether the drowned Ophelia 
is entitled to Christian burial. 

The doubt as to the poor girl's intention narrowly admits 
her to the jealous rights of Catholic burial, and saves her 
body from being condemned by the English law (for Shake- 
speare's law is always English), from being buried in a cross- 
road, with a stake driven through its center. We find this 
doctrine, both of the Church and of the statute, exhibited in 
the following scene at the grave, in which Laertes protests, to 
the officiating priest, against the religious meagerness of the 
ceremony which is grudgingly allowed to his dead sister : 

Laee. What ceremony else ? 

Priest. Her obsequies have been so far enlarged 

As we have warranty : Her death was doubtful ; 
And, but that great command o'er-sways the order, 
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged 
Till the last trumpet ; for charitable prayers, 
Shards, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown on her. 
Tet here she is allow'd her virgin rites, 
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home 
Of bell and burial. 

Laee. Must there no more be done ? 

Peiest. No more be done ! 

We should profane the service of the dead, 
To sing a requiem, and such rest to her, 
As to peace-parted souls. 

Laee. Lay her i' the earth ; 

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh 
May violets spring! — I tell thee, churlish priest, 
A minist'ring angel shall my sister be, 
When thou liest howling. Act V, 



The scene between the two gravediggers in comic discus- 
sion of the law, both of the Church and of the statute, con- 
cerning felo de se, presents itself properly at this point : 

Enter Two Clowns, with spades, etc. 

1 Olo. Is she to be buried in Christian burial, that wilfully seeks her 
own salvation ? 

2 Clo. I tell thee, she is; therefore make her grave straight: the 
crowner hath set on her, and finds it Christian burial. 



"Hamlet?. 415 

1 Clo. How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own de- 
fence ? 

2 Clo. Why, 'tis found so. 

1 Clo. It must be se offendendo ; it cannot be else. For here lies the 
point : If I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act ; and an act has three 
branches ; it is, to act, to do, and to perform : Argal, she drowned her- 
self wittingly. 

2 Clo. Nay, but hear you, goodman delver. 

1 Clo % Give me leave. Here lies the water ; good : here stands the 
man ; good : If the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will 
he, nill he, he goes ; mark you that : but if the water come to him, and 
drown him, he drowns not himself: Argal, he that is not guilty of his 
own death, shortens not his own life. 

2 Clo. But is this law ? 

1 Clo. Ay, marry is 't ; crowner's- quest law. 

2 Clo. Will you ha' the truth on't ? If this had not been a gentle- 
woman, she would have been buried out of Christian burial. 

1 Clo. Why, there thou say'st : And the more pity, that great folks 
shall have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more 
than their even Christian. — Act V, Scene 1. 

This singular scene, and the amount of law contained in 
it, notwithstanding its excessive comicality, could not, of 
course, escape the scrutiny of Lord Chief Justice Campbell, 
and he alludes to it as " the mine," which of all others of our 
author " produces the richest legal ore." He declares that the 
discussion proves " that Shakespeare had read and studied 
Plowden's report of the celebrated case of Hales v. Petit. 9 
tried in the reign of Philip and Mary, and that he intended 
to ridicule the counsel who argued and the judges who de- 
cided it." 

His lordship describes this case at considerable length, but, 
as I find it put more clearly by Judge Holmes, in his work on 
the " Authorship of Shakespeare," I will adopt the latter ver- 
sion of the case in preference to that of his lordship. Judge 
Holmes says : 

" Sir James Hales, a Judge of the Common Pleas, having 
been imprisoned for being concerned in the plot to place Lady 
Jane Gray upon the throne, and afterward pardoned, was so 
affected in mind as to commit suicide by drowning himself in 
a river. The coroner's inquest found a verdict of felo de se, 

9 Plowden's " Report?" p. 256-259/ 



41 6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

under which his body was to be buried at a cross-road, with 
a stake thrust through it, and his goods and estates were for- 
feited to the crown. A knotty question arose upon the suit 
of his widow for an estate by survivorship in joint-tenancy, 
whether the forfeiture could be considered as having taken 
place in the lifetime of Sir James Hales ; for, if it did not, 
she took the estate by survivorship. 

" Sergeant Southcote argued for the lady, that, as long as 
Sir James was alive, he had not killed himself, and the mo- 
ment that he died the estate vested in the plaintiff. ' The 
felony of the husband shall not take away her title by survi- 
vorship, for in this manner of felony two things are to be 
considered : First, the cause of the death ; secondly, the death 
ensuing the cause ; and these two make the felony, and with- 
out both of them the felony is not consummate, and the cause 
of the death is the act done in the party's lifetime, which 
makes the death to follow, and the act which brought on the 
death here was the throwing himself voluntarily into the 
water, for this was the cause of his death ; and, if a man kills 
himself by a wound which he gives himself with a knife, or, 
if he hangs himself as the wound or the hanging ', which is the 
act done in the party's lifetime, is the cause of his death, so 
is the throwing himself into the water here. Forasmuch as 
he can not be attainted of his own death, because he is dead 
before there is any time to attaint him, the finding of his 
death by the coroner is, by necessity of law, equivalent to an 
attainder, in fact, coming after his death. He can not befelo 
de se till the death is f ally consummate, and the death pre- 
cedes the felony and the forfeiture.' 

" Sergeant Walsh, on the other side, argued that the for- 
feiture had relation to the act done in the party's lifetime 
which was the cause of his death. ' Upon this, the parts of 
the act are to he considered ; and the act consists of three parts. 
The first is the imagination, which is a reflection or medita- 
tion of the mind, whether or no it is convenient for him to 
destroy himself, and what way it can be done. The second is 
the resolution, which is a determination of the mind to de- 
stroy himself, and to do it in this or that particular way. The 
third is the perfection, which is the execution of what the 



"Hamlet" 417 

mind has resolved to do. And this perfection consists of two 
parts, viz., the beginning and the end. The beginning is the 
doing of the act which causes the death ; and the end is the 
death, which is only a sequel to the act. And of all the parts, 
the doing of the act is the greatest in the judgment of our law, 
and it is, in effect, the whole. The doing of the act is the 
only point which the law regards : for, until the act is done, 
it can not be an offense to the world, and, when the act is 
done, it is punishable. Inasmuch as the person who did the 
act is dead, his person can not be punished, and therefore 
there is no way else to punish him but by the forfeiture of 
those things which were his own at the time of his death.' 

" Bendloe cited a case in which ( a heretic wounded him- 
self mortally with a knife, and afterward became of sound 
mind, and had the rites of Holy Church, and after died of 
the said wound, and his chattels were not forfeited ' ; and 
Cams cited another, c where it appears that one who had taken 
sanctuary in a church was out in the night, and the town pur- 
sued him, and the felon defended himself with clubs and 
stones, and would not render himself to the king's peace, and 
we struck off his head ; and the goods of the person killed 
were forfeited, for he could not be arraigned, because he was 
hilled by his own fault, for which reason, upon the truth of 
the matter found, his goods were forfeited.' Here the inquiry 
before the coroner super visum corporis ... is equivalent 
to a judgment given against him in his lifetime, and the for- 
feiture has relation to the act which was the cause of his 
death, viz., the throwing himself into the water. 

" Dyer, C. J., giving the opinion of the Court, said : ' The 
forfeiture shall have relation to the act done by Sir James 
Hales in his lifetime, which was the cause of his death, viz., 
the throwing himself into the water.' He made five points : 
'First, the quality of the offense; secondly, by whom the 
offense was committed ; thirdly, what he shall forfeit ; fourth- 
ly, from what time; and fifthly, if the term here shall be 
taken from the wife.' . . . As to the second point, it is an 
offense agaiust nature, against God, and against the king. 
Against nature, for every living thing does, by instinct of 
nature, defend itself from destruction / and, then, to destroy 
27 



41 8 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

one's self is contrary to nature, and a thing most horrible. 
Against God, in that it is a breach of his commandment, 
6 Thou shalt not kill; ' and to kill himself, by which he kills 
in presumption his own soul, is a greater offense than to kill 
another. Against the king, in that hereby he has lost a 
subject, and (as Brown termed it) he being the head, has lost 
one of his mystical members. ... It was agreed by all the 
judges, ' that he shall forfeit all his goods ; for Brown said 
the reason why the king shall have the goods and chattels of 
a felode se ... is not because he is out of Holy Church, so 
that for that reason the bishop will not meddle with them ; 
. . . but for the loss of his subject, and for the breach of his 
peace, and for the evil example given to his people, and not 
in respect that Holy Church will not meddle with them, for 
he is adjudged none of the members of Holy Church? 

" As to the fourth point, viz., to what time the forfeiture 
shall have relation ; the forfeiture here shall have relation to 
the time of the original offense committed, which was the 
cause of the death, and that was the throwing himself into the 
water, which was done in his lifetime, and this act was felony. 
... So that the felony is attributed to the act, which is al- 
ways done by a living man, and in his lifetime ; for Sir James 
Hales was dead, and how came he to his death ? By drown- 
ing. And who drowned him? Sir James Hales. And when 
did he drown him? In his lifetime. So that Sir James 
Hales, being alive, caused Sir James Hales to die ; and the 
act of the living man was the death of the dead man. But 
how can he be said to be punished alive when the punish- 
ment comes after his death ? Sir, this can be done no other 
way than by divesting out of him his title and property, from 
the time of the act done which was the cause of his death, 
viz., the throwing himself into the water." 

Lord Campbell, of course, argues from this case that Shake- 
speare had a very considerable knowledge of the law; and 
Judge Holmes, who is the chief expounder of the Baconian 
theory, says : 

" A careful comparison of these passages may satisfy the 
critical reader that the author of the play had certainly read 
this report of Plowden. They are not adduced here as 



"Hamlet." 419 

amounting to proof that the author was any other than "Wil- 
liam Shakespeare, but rather as a circumstance bearing upon 
the antecedent probabilities of the case ; for there is not the 
slightest ground for a belief, on the facts which we know, 
that Shakespeare ever looked into Plowden's ' Eeports ' ; 
while it is quite certain that Francis Bacon, who commenced 
his legal studies at Gray's Inn in the very next year after the 
date of Plowden's preface, did have occasion to make himself 
familiar with that work some years before the appearance of 
' Hamlet.' And the mode of reasoning and the manner of 
the ' Report,' bordering so nearly upon the ludicrous, would 
be sure to impress the memory of Bacon, whose nature, as we 
know, was singularly capable of wit and humor." 

It thus appears, according to Lord Campbell and Judge 
Holmes, that the author of " Hamlet," whoever he was, must 
have read this " Report " of Plowden, which his lordship, who 
is the most emphatic of the two, declares " he not only must 
must have read, but studied." Now, I am not so positive 
about this point, though I think it not unlikely that both of 
them are right. It would have been very natural for a man 
of Shakespeare's keen sense of the ridiculous, on hearing this 
case of Hales vs. Petit discussed by the wits, poets, and law- 
yers who spent their hours of relaxation in the tap-room of 
the hospitable "Mermaid," to ask one of his legal friends 
to lend him Plowden for his more complete enjoyment of 
the case ; but it is quite as likely that he acquired a full 
knowledge of the whole of it by the repeated discussions and 
heated disputes which such an exceptional proceeding would 
be sure to have given rise to in a first-class London tavern. 
Doubtless, it was reacted there, after the fashion of the comic 
trial scene between Prince Hal and Falstaff at the " Boar's 
Head " in Eastcheap, and the parts of Sergeants Southcote 
and Wright, Chief Justice Dyer, and, possibly, the dead Sir 
James, and Dame Margaret his widow, distributed among the 
tipplers and roisterers of the company. Certainly there could 
have been no rarer fun to such a mind as Shakespeare's ; and 
in this way, perhaps, its comicality became transposed into 
one of the most peculiar productions of his comic genius, 
through the inimitable and immortal dialogue of the grave- 



420 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

diggers. On the other hand, while Shakespeare would have 
been sure to view the case of Hales vs. Petit in its most ludi- 
crous aspect, and to have embodied it accordingly, I think it 
may be received as equally certain that the mind of Bacon 
would have entertained the argument only with the gravity 
of a lawyer, and have incarnated it, had he touched it at all, 
not as a piece of fun, but as a precedent and serious authority. 
It must be observed also that in the time of Shakespeare 
there were no newspapers for the circulation of current in- 
formation among the people. The art of printing had only 
been devised by Caxton in 1467, barely a -hundred years be- 
fore, and, though an octavo printed single news-sheet made 
its appearance in the latter part of the sixteenth century, it 
contained scarcely anything beyond a few advertisements and 
the movements of the court. London taverns, in the time of 
Shakespeare, therefore, were the resorts of lawyers, scholars, 
attorneys' clerks, and, sometimes, of judges and personages of 
very high degree. The "Mermaid," in Bread Street, which 
seems to have been the favorite resort of our poet, was fre- 
quented by a club founded by Sir "Walter Raleigh ; and here 
Raleigh himself, Ben Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Sfelden, 
Cotton, Carew, Martin, Donne, and others, their chosen com- 
panions, met for social and convivial enjoyment — I dare not 
add, for the more modern solace of pipes and tobacco, because 

" The fat weed 
That rots itself in ease on Lethe's wharf," 

though then recently brought home by Ealeigh, had not yet 
fallen into common use. 10 

" There [says Fuller] all the students of the literature and 
manners of those days have reasonably agreed in placing the 
scene of the wit combats between Shakespeare and Jonson," 
the fame of which had reached Fuller's time, and caused him 
to imagine the encounter of the two like that between a Span- 
ish great galleon and an English man-of-war: Jonson, like the 

10 It has been said in reply to those who claimed that our poet knew 
something of everything, that Shakespeare never gave any evidence of his 
knowledge of tobacco ; but I think that " The fat weed which rots itself 
in ease on Lethe's wharf " is a distinct reference to it. 



" Hamlet." 421 

former, built far higher in learning, and solid, but slow in his 
performances ; Shakespeare, like the latter, less in bulk, but 
lighter in movement, turning and tacking nimbly, and taking 
every advantage by the quickness of his wit and invention. 11 

But, to return to the question as to the extent of Shake- 
speare's legal acquirements, I think that Lord Campbell makes 
a much stronger point for the affirmative than in the grave- 
diggers' scene, when he says : 

" Hamlet's own speech, on taking in his hand what he sup- 
posed might be the skull of a lawyer, abounds with lawyer- 
like thoughts and words : 

1 Where be his quiddits now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his 
tricks? Why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the 
sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery ? 
Humph! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his 
statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries : is 
this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his 
fine pate full of fine dirt ? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his 
purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of 
indentures ? ' 

" These terms of art," adds his lordship, " are all used 
seemingly with a full knowledge of their import ; and it would 
puzzle some practicing barristers with whom I am acquainted 
to go over the whole seriatim, and to define each of them satis- 
factorily." 

His lordship also finds in the following allusion to the dis- 

11 u "What things have we seen 
Done at the ' Mermaid ' ! heard words that have been 
So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, 
As if that every one from whom they came 
Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, 
And had resolved to live a fool the rest 
Of his dull life ; then when there hath been thrown 
Wit able enough to justify the town 
For three days past, wit that might warrant be 
For the whole city to talk foolishly 
Till that were cancell'd, and, when that was gone, 
We left an air behind us which alone 
Was able to make the two next companies 
Right witty, though but downright fools, more wise." 

Letter to Ben Jonton. 



422 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

puted territory, which was the cause of war between Norway 
and Poland, a substratum of law in Shakespeare's mind : 

" "We go to gain a little patch of ground, 
That hath in it no profit but the name, 
To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it, 
Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole 
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee.'' 1 

How Shakespeare, or any intelligent tradesman of his time, 
could have known less law than is indicated by the term fee 
simple, I can not well conceive. 

" Earlier in the play," continues his lordship, "Marcellus 
inquires what was the cause of the warlike preparations in 
Denmark : 

' And why such daily cast of brazeu cannon, 
And foreign mart for implements of war? 
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task 
Does not divide the Sunday from the week ? ' 

" Such confidence, in England, has there always been in 
Shakespeare's general accuracy, that this passage has been 
quoted both by text-writers and by judges on the bench as an 
authority upon the legality of the press-gang, and upon the 
debated question whether shipwrights, as well as common sea- 
men, are liable to be pressed into the service of the royal 
navy." 

Finally, says his lordship : 

" Hamlet, when mortally wounded, in Act Y, Scene 2, 
represents that death comes to him in the shape of a sheriff's 
officer, as it were, to take him into custody under a capias ad 
satisfaciendum : 

'Had I but time (as this fell serjeant, Death, 
Is strict in his arrest), Oh ! I could tell you, etc' " 

I cheerfully leave this to the reader without argument ; 
but I regret that, in concluding my review of the plays of 
Shakespeare, in this analysis of the tragedy of " Hamlet" I 
am obliged to point out what certainly looks like a willful 
neglect of duty on the part of my Lord Chief Justice Camp- 
bell. At the request of Mr. J. Payne Collier, a distinguished 
commentator, his lordship, being esteemed the most fit man in 



" Hamlet ! y 423 

England, undertook the task of investigating the text of the 
Shakespeare writings for evidences of the legal acquirements 
of the author. Having accepted this responsibility and the 
honors which pertain to it, he was bound to perform the task, 
not only diligently and fully, but also impartially to any and 
every interest which might arise or be comprehended in the 
premises. I concede that, in the main, his lordship has done 
so (though I have not been always able to agree with him), 
and I admit, moreover, that the observation of his lordship 
has been so vigilant and his scrutiny so minute that he has 
found proofs of our poet's legal erudition even in his casual 
but correct use of such terms as " purchase," " several," " fee," 
and " fee-farm." Nay, he has even gone to the extent, in the 
play we had last in hand (" Lear "), of conceding to him a. 
comprehensive legal insight through the Fool's declaration 
that " the breath of an unfeed lawyer " was worth nothing, 
because it cost nothing. His lordship's estimation of the 
weight of these legal expressions, I cheerfully confess, ought 
to be a great deal better than mine (though I must assume my 
privilege of disagreeing with him), but I think I have a right 
to complain, along with the rest of the world whom his lord- 
ship agreed to serve in this matter, for his willfully concealing 
a portion of the evidence when he found it rasped his own 
profession, or, I should rather say, when it touched the repu- 
tation of the lofty class of legal dignitaries to which his lord- 
ship's learning and ability had justly raised him. 

I observed in my review of " Lear "that, notwithstanding 
the great diligence which Lord Campbell had shown in analyz- 
ing the Shakespearean text, he had singularly enough, over- 
looked, or perhaps intentionally left unnoticed, two of the 
most striking evidences of Shakespeare's knowledge of the 
administration of the law, as it then seemed to be adminis- 
tered in Great Britain. Both of these instances occur in the 
famous scene in Act IV, Scene 6, where the mad old king, 
fantastically dressed in flowers, holds a sort of court upon the 
heath : 

Lear [to the blinded Gloster]. Look with thine ears. See how yon' 
justice rails upon yon' simple thief. Hark, in thine ear. Change places ; 
and, handy- dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief? 



424 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 
Again : 

" Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear ; 
Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy 's straw will pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say none ; I'll able 'em. [Offers money. 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuseds lips." 

My remark upon the above was : " Surely Lord Campbell, 
who accepted his first legal instance in this play of ' Lear,' 
as to an ' unf eed lawyer,' from the mouth of a fool, might have 
given some attention to the above powerful lines, though from 
the lips of a madman." All this was suppositively put against 
Lord Campbell as a case of possible oversight ; but the fol- 
lowing evidence of his lordship's tampering with the testi- 
mony, or rather concealment of the facts, for the protection of 
the reputation of the English bench, disposes of that theory. 
Like the above instances from " Lear," the suppressed extract 
affords one of the most conspicuous evidences of Shakespeare's 
intimate knowledge of the corruption of the English judiciary 
that could possibly be presented. It occurs in the language 
of the King in the third scene of Act III of " Hamlet," where, 
stung by remorse, his Majesty is about asking Heaven's for- 
giveness for his crimes. He says : 

" In the corrupted currents of the world, 
Offence '* gilded hand may shove by justice ; 
And oft His seen, the wicked prize itself 
Buys out the law ; but 'tis not so above ; 
There is no shuffling, there the action lies 
In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
To give in evidence." 

This terrible accusation against the integrity of the Eng- 
lish judiciary Lord Campbell would not give; so, without 
reflecting injuriously upon his lordship, I am forced by the 
necessities of criticism to repeat the remark I made at the 
close of my review of the tragedy of " Lear" : that, " Of one 
thing we may be certain, Sir Francis Bacon, who when lord 



" Hamlet!' 425 

chancellor was sent to the Tower for selling his decisions for 
money while presiding on the bench, would never have writ- 
ten these allusions to judicial corruption had he been the 
author of the Shakespeare plays ; or, had he done so in 1605, 
when 'Lear' was composed, he would have expunged these 
condemnations of his own crime when the Shakespearean folio 
was revised and published in 1623." 



fan HI. 

THE MUSICAL OE EUPHONIC TEST. 

SHAKESPEARE AND BACON'S RESPECTIVE SENSE 
OP MELODY, OR EAR FOR MUSIC. 



The Euphonic Test. 429 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 



THE EUPHONIC TEST. 



Having finished my scrutiny of the Shakespearean dramas, 
with the view of exhibiting the writer's aristocratic incli- 
nations, his contempt for the laboring classes, his Catholic 
predilections, and his defective knowledge of the law, in order 
to mark the width of distance, in the way of personality, be- 
tween him and Lord Bacon, I come now to the final test : 
whether the essays of the latter and the plays of our poet 
could have been the productions of one and the same mind. 
This question I take to be susceptible of absolute demonstra- 
tion, according to the laws of elocution and of musical sound. 
A writer's musical sense, or ear for music, governs the euphony 
and tread of his expression. This ear for sound, following 
the instincts of taste, and falling always toward one cadence 
and accord, insensibly forms what writers call a style. This 
style, when thoroughly fixed, enables us to distinguish the 
productions of one author from another, and is usually more 
reliable as a test of authorship even than handwriting, inas- 
much as the latter may be counterfeited, while a style of 
thought, united with a form of expression consonant to that 
tone of thought, being in some sort a gift, can not be imitated 
as handwriting can. A fixed style, like that either of Bacon 
or of Shakespeare, is, therefore, undoubtedly susceptible of 
analysis and measurement by the laws both of music and of 
elocution. Having believed from the first that this test would 
prove decisive, summoning, as it almost does, the august 
shades of the two dead Grandeurs into court, I reserved it for 
the last. Being unwilling, however, in a matter of so much 



430 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

importance, to depend solely upon myself, I addressed a letter 
to Professor J. W. Taverner, a very high authority in elo- 
cution and belles-lettres in the United States, requesting an 
analysis and comparison of the plays and essays from his 
standpoint in art, and asking an opinion, as far as that critical 
examination would enable him to give one, of the problem 
involved. The following is the essay of the Professor on the 
text above given : 

The Respective Styles of Shakespeare and Bacon, 1 judged by 
the Laws of Elocutionary Analysis and " Melody of 
Speech" 

by pkofessor j. w. taverner. 

George Wilkes, Esq. : 

Dear Sir : I will now set forth, as plainly as I can, the 
theory of Shakespearean versification, to which you refer. 
As for the Baconian theory of the authorship of Shakespeare's 
plays, which I remember to have been first started by Miss 
Bacon, at New Haven — I prejudged it. It appeared to me, 
by the force of a single reflection, to be as unworthy of exami- 
nation as to seriously consider if two bodies could occupy the 
same place at the same time. 

The reflection to which I refer is this : that when we re- 
gard the works of great men — the sculpture and paintings of 
Michael Angelo, the architecture of Inigo Jones, the dramatic 
works of Shakespeare, and, I am obliged to mention for my 

1 Bacon's style was clear and strong, well balanced and rhythmical, 
bnt not sweet. Meares, in the "Wit's Treasury," published in 1598, 
speaks of Shakespeare as the mellifluous and honey -tongued Shakespeare, 
in whom "the sweet and witty soul of Ovid lies," as witness his " Yenus 
and Adonis," his "Lucrece," and his sugred sonnets among his private 
friends. Chettle, in 1603, thus alludes to him while reproaching him for 
his silence on the death of Queen Elizabeth : 

"Nor doth the silver-tongued Melicert 
Drop from his honied muse one sable tear." 

Ben Jonson, in his eulogy on "The Memory of Shakespeare," says: 

"Even so the race 
Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines 
In his well-turned and truly filed lines.^ 



The Euphonic Test. 43 1 

arguments, the works of Lord Bacon — we see the rounded 
thought of " a life," as it grew and spread, like one of those 
giant trees of California, with its roots in the earth just where 
it started. The life work of each had its roots in an idea, a 
soil, a genius (not an industry), from which all sprang. Each 
such work is, as I said, the expression of " a life," and of a 
life commenced and continued under certain auspices. He, 
therefore, that wrought the one could not have performed the 
work incident to the other without entirely new conditions 
from the start. How much less possible is it that one could 
have accomplished the joint works of any two ! 

Not the least among these, but, perhaps, the greatest won- 
der of them all, is Shakespeare. The world has been accus- 
tomed to regard the author of these marvelous plays as the 
wonder of the world and the king of men. It is certain, who- 
ever he was, that from childhood he was growing to the work, 
cultivating his imagination, accumulating his materials ; his 
mind, left to its bent, but little interfered with from without. 
Even too severe and strict an education would have dwarfed 
his imagination, and stopped this mighty mind in its career. 
Its education must greatly have been an education of choice. 

And now we are asked to concede that these plays, and all 
that they contain, needed no such one-sided devotion and 
mental proclivity and was not so much of a work, after all, 
for Lord Bacon, whose chief and earnest devotion of mind 
and time was not surrendered to this work (but is well under- 
stood and fully admitted by his biography to have been ex- 
erted in a different direction), yet supplemented these dra- 
matic works as a mere pastime, in hours of relaxation from 
severe and absolute duties and labors. 

It is not so unreasonable, I am willing to admit, apart 
from historical proof to the contrary, to dispute the author- 
ship of Shakespeare's plays, but utterly unreasonable to think 
to find the author in one who was at the same period filling 
the world otherwise with a light, an effulgence of brightness, 
of only a somewhat lesser magnitude. So Lord Bacon is ruled 
out by a sort of an intellectual alibi, for he was somewhere 
else busily engrossed with something else. To have done the 
one work precludes the possibility of having done the other, 



432 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

as it would for both an oak- and a pine-tree to grow from the 
same seed. Understand me, that if thej were both works of 
mere literary labor, like those of Schlegel (for so I judge 
Schlegel), this would not apply ; but, being both works of ge- 
nius, and one at least (the plays) of both genius and of art, 
this does apply. 

As the handwriting of any one man among thousands can 
be determined by experts, so no lengthy examples of the style 
— the expression and language of any two authors of note — 
can fail to indicate the individual mind to which the one or 
the other belongs. The handwriting is so determinate, be- 
cause dependent on such an infinite combination of circum- 
stances — the whole conformation and structure of the hand ; 
the relation of the thumb and fingers that hold the pen, the 
angle by which they are inclined, the length of the lever from 
the point where the hand rests, but still further by those 
more delicate indications, through the action of the nerves 
and the characteristics of the mind of the chirographer. 

But how much more extensive are the combinations that 
constitute the style, the language, the adornments, the illus- 
trations, the figurative expression, the place of the emphasis, 
the form of the phrases, the source of the metaphors, the 
character of the similes ; but our enumeration would become 
too long ; then, finally, that emanation of the rhythm of the 
breathing, and of the pulse, and the endowments of the ear, 
that marshals all those forms and phrases in a certain order 
with reference to melody and cadence ! 

To make up the characteristics of some of these, what a 
combination of antecedents! Every day that the author 
lived, every trouble, happiness, and accident that he experi- 
enced, every book that he chanced to read, every study that 
he earnestly prosecuted, every virtue and every vice that grew 
in his character, every trait and bias and inclination in sci- 
ence, in theology, in philosophy and music, contributed to 
produce and form the united result. 

We shall therefore proceed to judge, by these signs, wheth- 
er it is not impossible that the works of Shakespeare could 
have been written by Lord Bacon, and equally so that those 
of Bacon could have been written by Shakespeare. 



The Ettphonic Test. 433 

We can readily detect, as a peculiarity appertaining to 
different writers, certain repeated forms, showing that every 
writer exhibits a fashion, or uses some geometrical or metrical 
arrangement in which the words instinctively place them- 
selves. I presume that with some authors, and most certainly 
with Shakespeare, it might require a tedious examination to 
find out what prevails, but, with Bacon, we are so far fortu- 
nate, it is scarcely possible to read a page without detecting 
more than one such prevalent habit. 

I shall present examples, sufficient in number, and those 
taken solely from the " Essays," and, when they are brought 
together, I think that it will seem quite unnecessary to state 
that the same repetitions (I mean in form only) can not be- 
produced from the pages of Shakespeare. 

Upon examination of the limited poetry which we have 
from the pen of Bacon [" The translation of certain Psalms 
into English verse"], I find nothing to criticise. Like unto 
Shakespeare, he takes good note of any deficiency of syllabic 
pulsation, and imparts the value but of one syllable to the dis- 
syllables "heaven," " wearest," " many," "even," "goeth"; 
and to "glittering," and " chariot " but the value of two, pre- 
cisly as Shakespeare would. But we have no means of 
ascertaining if he would have pronounced " ambitious " as 
four syllables, as Shakespeare invariably does, and as the 
reader may find if he will consult Mark Antony's oration. 

On the one side of this investigation, therefore, we are con- 
fined to what may be revealed in prose composition. 

The outcome of the life-long process to which we have 
referred, by which the style of a writer is formed — that fea- 
ture of it to which our treatment of this subject for the pres- 
ent relates — is the most subtile ; for we have to investigate 
that of which the writer himself was, possibly, the most un- 
conscious — that which, like his gait or some other habit, has 
perhaps received no positive attention whatever. Yet it may 
be held that nothing becomes more rigid and fixed than the 
mold and matrix in which his thoughts are ultimately fash- 
ioned and expressed. The modes of thinking would, in some 
instances, have to be identical to produce identical melodies 
of speech. 

28 



434 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

In Shakespeare's prose wqslPall find that all this is mar- 
velously free and varied, and that his blank verse conforms 
strictly to a certain set of chimes. In Bacon, besides Latin 
forms, we shall not lack examples of a certain sort of du- 
plicates and triplicates, antithetic parallelisms, and harmonic 
or alternate phrases (and, to use a strong Baconianism), and 
the like. 

A distinguished reviewer says that " Bacon, like Sidney, 
was the warbler of poetic prose." And this is true, not solely 
jn the sense of using poetic illustration, an illustration identi- 
fied with the development of thought, the close combination 
of the intellectual and the imaginative, but in his adherence 
to a frequent repetition of prose melodies. But they have not 
the rhythm of the beat of the ocean on the sea-shore, like 
those of Shakespeare. They resemble rather, in some in- 
stances, the formula of the rule of three ; and others, show- 
ing; the mathematical mind of the author, are constructed 
precisely in form, as that 1 a equals 2 h ; 2 a equals 4 h ; and 
others are like three times three are nine, three times four are 
twelve, and three times five are fifteen. 

Let us give some illustrations of these : 

"A man can not speak to his son but as a father, to his 
wife but as a husband, to his enemy but upon terms." 

" Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, 
and wise men use them." 

" Where some ants carry corn, and some their young, and 
some go empty." " Studies serve for delight, for ornament, 
and for ability." " The chief use for delight is in, etc., for 
ornament is, etc., and for ability in, etc." " Reading maketh 
a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact 
man." " For they cloud the mind, they lose friends, they 
check with business." " They dispose kings to tyranny, hus- 
bands to jealousy, wise men to irresolution." 

But in all this there is an obvious rhythm, every member 
is equally balanced. For compare the above with the follow- 
ing, where each member is drawn out longer : 

" The advantage ground to do good, the approach to kings 
and principal persons, and the raising of a man's own for- 
tunes." 



The Ettphonic Test. 435 

There is no end to Bacon's repetition of these triple clauses 
always equally balanced : 

" Some of prey, some of game, some of quarrel." " De- 
sires of profit, of lust, of revenge." " Give ear to precept, to 
laws, to religion," " of boobs, of sermons, of harangues." " He 
tosseth his thoughts more easily, he marshaleth them more or- 
derly, he seeth how they look when they are turned into words." 

For the abundance of forms such as these has it been said 
that no author was ever so concise as Bacon. Yet the question 
may be asked, if Shakespeare had to put the same thoughts 
as the following, would he express them in the same way : 
" Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and 
some few to be chewed and digested " ? 

Distinguished Shakespearean commentators, who will re. 
ject, as being unsafe to adopt, many critical arguments founded 
upon the merit or demerit of certain passages, or even of an 
entire play, will attach the greatest importance to any simi- 
larity or dissimilarity in the versification. Nothing is regarded 
as a surer indication of authenticity than such external signs. 
Bacon himself gives testimony to the weight and value of such 
evidence, for he himself relates that Queen Elizabeth, being 
incensed with a certain book dedicated to my Lord of Essex, 
expressed an opinion that there was treason in it, and would 
not be persuaded that it was his writing whose name was to 
it ; but that it had some more mischievous author, and said, 
with great indignation, that she would have him racked to 
produce his author. " I replied," says Bacon, " Nay, madam, 
he is a doctor ; never rack his person, but rack his style ; let 
him have pen, ink, and paper, and help of books, and be en- 
joined to continue the story where it breaketh off*, and I will 
undertake by collating the styles to tell whether he were the 
author or no." 

Of this, part of the style, which is simply addressed to the 
ear, and not unto the mind, or limited to some faculty of it 
that might be regarded as the counterpart of the eye, has pos- 
sessed such an attraction for some persons that they have 
become thereby attached to certain authors, and have made 
them their constant companions, chiefly for this aesthetic kind 
of gratification. 



43 6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

It is said that. Lord Byron made Disraeli's " Literary 
Characters " his inseparable companion, though I may infer 
it was for the sake of the endless variety of intellectual ex- 
periences, with which Byron would doubtless have felt so 
much active sympathy. 

What but this music of language produced the great fasci- 
nation of Ossian's poems ? I doubt if it were not this which 
constituted the chief effect of Sterne, and made him for a 
time a household work. 

It is certainly the great and unique charm of Edgar Allan 
Poe. 

It has a marvelous attraction for the young, upon whom 
will be often produced an indelible impression thus derived 
through example and admiration. So from a life association 
spring up the various habitual intonations of the Scotch,, 
the Irish, the English, and the American, that you may 
know them, meet them in whatever part of the world you 
may. 

No writer, however intellectually great or independent he 
may afterward become, but in his day had his bias and has 
been influenced by the fascination of another. And two 
men who are contemporaries, though they may be attracted 
alike and come under the same influence, yet in its blending 
with their individual natures, and modified more or less by 
that receptivity derived from previous preparation to submit 
them to the impression ; and, as the nature of the one would 
be to absorb less or to reflect more, the result would be in- 
variably different. 

There is nothing so characteristic as the natural and ac- 
quired endowments of the mind of an author, that shows the 
true metal of the mine from which they are taken, as the 
similes which he employs. All such analogies are just such 
as most readily occur to the mind of the writer. How differ- 
ent will they be with different men ! In Shakespeare, those 
of his that are sui generis are drawn from the forces of na- 
ture; he goes at once to the fountain-head — he does not 
borrow them at second-hand, nor look into the accidents of life 
for an illustration. Those of Bacon, on the other hand, are 
such as are suggested by the habit of a close observation of 



The Euphonic Test. 43 7 

life and manners, of the observances of the court, of the dic- 
tates of prudence, of the experience and moral allowance of 
the lawyer : they may be drawn from nature, but it "is nature 
as exhibited in the life of the animal, its sagacity and cunning, 
and qualities that help to self-preservation ; as in that one of 
his wherein he says, " As among beasts, those which are weak- 
est in the course are yet nimblest in the turn, as it is betwixt 
the greyhound and the hare." Very shrewd indeed; but 
therein it has the mental stamp of Lord Bacon. He has put 
his mark upon it — shrewdness, the quickest and most respons- 
ive faculty of the individual character. 

The simile is as a spark that is to be elicited from an 
electrically charged substance. The moment for the spark has 
come ; it can't deliberate how it shall deport itself ; there is so 
much of it, or so little, according to circumstances. Thus 
nothing is so sure an indication of the man. When he pro- 
jects the simile, he looks in upon himself. He is confined to 
nothing. There is the storehouse ; a glance only, and he picks 
up the brightest gem that suits his purpose. Be he rich or 
poor, parsimonious or prodigal, he must wear the robes suited 
to his state and station. 

Similes as mental products are very distinct from all other 
forms of figurative language. A simile is unique. Metaphor 
and such like may belong to only a "part of a phrase ; there 
may be but a few words with a figurative meaning intro- 
duced within a sentence; but a simile is complete. It has its 
own beginning and ending. Bacon has to accompany some 
of his with an explanation. Here is one with a double ex- 
planation : 

" Like choler, which is the humour that maketh men active, 
earnest, and full of alacrity, and stirring if it be not stopped ; 
but if it be stopped, and can not have its way, it becometh as 
dark, and thereby malign and venomous; so, etc." 

Where could you find in Shakespeare a simile constructed 
like this? 

To determine more positively the impress oiindividuality 
which this form, above all others, supplies, I shall place along- 
side of Shakespeare and Bacon those also of Shelley and of 
the Bible. 



438 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

The unification of the simile, both in structure and execu- 
tion, is a peculiarity attaching generally to all those of the 
Bible, of Shakespeare, and of Shelley, and is so essential an 
attribute for the consideration of the elocutionist, because, 
through the least failure, either in conception or execution, 
in this regard, vague, false, or ridiculous meanings have some- 
times been conveyed, both on the stage and in the sacred desk. 
This necessary compliance in elocution is but the conforming 
of the delivery to the psychological conditions under which 
the simile had its parturition in the mind of the author. To 
take example from stage utterances : 

" And Pity, like a naked new-lorn babe, 
Striding the blast" 

has been so pronounced as if " the naked new-born babe " was 
striding the blast, 

" Or heaven's cherubim, horsed 
Upon the sightless coursers of the air," 

as if " the cherubim " was intended as horsed upon the sight- 
less coursers of the air. 

It is Pity, the bold figure and personification which Mac- 
beth has suddenly introduced, which thus conveys its pitiful 
tale of assassination and murder, and starts the tears in every 
eye. 

Then, again, in the first part of the same speech : 

" Besides, this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
The deep damnation of his talcing off." 

I am almost afraid to say what distinguished elocutionists 
— if tragedians, whose elocution has invariably been mere 
blind experiment, may be called such — have spoken these 
lines as if the thought were " angels trumpet-tongued," 
instead of its appearing that Duncan's virtues would plead 
trumpet-tongued. The punctuation, which should not be suf- 
fered to mislead, is the cause of some of these errors. 

This essential attribute of the simile I shall show hereafter 



-The Euphonic Test. 439 

as peculiarly attaching to those of Shelley, and, however 
lengthy any simile might be, that his mind embraced it like 
a single ray of light emanating therefrom. 

In the following example from the Bible, either the pres- 
ence of the commas, or ignorance of that elocutionary feature 
in the simile, which is to render it in its entirety, has led to 
similar faults (Psalm i, 3) : 

" And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that 
bringeth forth his fruit in his season.'''' 

This, when rendered disjunctively, " and he shall he like a 
tree" we can not see wherein he is like a tree. Nor can we 
perceive how he can be " like a tree planted by the rivers of 
water " ; for that is to be carried away by the flood. " That 
bringeth forth his fruit " is now too late. The light is thus 
broken and scattered. But, presented as a unit, having one 
continuous flow of the voice, the sense is plain. 

Again, in Psalm xix, 5, with the reading of which every- 
body is so familiar, and which has been heard so often, 
thus : 

" Which is as a bridegroom . . . coming out of his chamber. 
And rejoiceth as a strong man . . . to run a race." 

Now, by this disjunctive reading, we would not know 
whether " coming out of his chamber " was predicated of the 
sun or of the bridegroom, nor whether "to run a race" re- 
ferred to the bridegroom, the sun, or the strong man. But 
the simile, preserved in its entirety, and given to the ear in a 
compact form, is full of energy and meaning : 

" Which is ... as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, 
And rejoiceth . . . as a strong man to run a race" 

How little of this character can be imparted to any simile, so 
conceived as to carry an explanation afterward, like this one 
from Bacon : 



"Like bats amongst birds, they fly by twilight ' 



' t 



I introduce this, at this point, to show that there may be a 
radical difference in the manner a simile may spring up in the 



440 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

mind. This latter form is indicative of a mental habit entirely 
distinct from the above examples, and, if we shall find here- 
after that no such mental habit attaches to the author of 
Shakespeare's plays, and yet is almost the invariable method 
with Bacon, it will be all-sufficient of itself, without the argu- 
ment of the enormous difference in the similes themselves and 
the sources from which they are derived. 

Shelley abounds in similes, more so than any other poet. 
In the " Skylark " we have a string of them, if I may use the 
phrase, each simile being as a bead, distinct in character and 
color, that is to be separately threaded. The elocution de- 
mands that the mind shall not be taken up with the parts, but 
embrace the whole ; it must not be allowed to rest on " the 
glowworm," but on all that is said about it : 

" Like a poet hidden 

In the light of thought, 
Singing hymns unbidden, 
Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not; 

" Like a high-born maiden, 

In a palace tower, 

Soothing her love-laden 

Soul in secret hour 

With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower ; 

"Like a glowworm golden, 
In a dell of dew, 
Scattering unbeholden 
Its aerial hue 
Amidst the flowers and grass which screen it from the view ; 

"Like a rose erabower'd 
In its own green leaves, 
By warm winds deflower'd, 
Till the scent it gives 
Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy- winged thieves. 

" Sound of vernal showers 
On the twinkling grass, 
Rain-awaken'd flowers, 
All that ever was 
Joyous, and fresh, and clear, thy music doth surpass." 



The Euphonic Test, 441 

Further examples : " Like a wolf that had smelt a dead 
child out," (the spring) " Like the spirit of love felt every- 
where," (panted) " Like a doe in the noontide." 

No one can mistake in perceiving the individual character 
of the mind, if not its peculiarity, that produced the whole of 
these. They are very beautiful ; but there is a peculiar senti- 
ment about all of them that they would be at once pronounced 
as Shelley's, and not one of them could possibly be assigned 
to Shakespeare. 

SIMILES FEOM SHAKESPEARE. 

From " Othello:' 1 

u Like to the Pontic sea 
Whose icy current and compulsive course 
Ne'er knows retiring ebb ; but keeps due on, 
To the Propontic and the Hellespont." 

From " Henry J 7 "." 

" Let it pry [the eye] through 'the portage of the head ' 
Like the brass cannon.' 

Let the brow o'erwhelm it, 
As fearfully ' as doth a galled rock 
O'erhaDg and jutty his confounded base, 
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.' 

I see you stand ' like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start.' " 

From "Macbeth." 

" And ' overcome us like a summer's cloud ' 
Without our- special wonder," 

i. e., No more than as a summer's cloud. 

No one can fail to recognize the mental stamp of Shelley in 
the similes quoted from him / and as manifestly are there pres- 
ent the individual impress, the boldness and daring of the one 
and the same hand in those taken from Shakespeare. 

What a corruscation of poetic force and beauty appertains 
to each ! I speak of those of Shakespeare and of Shelley, and 
jet the peculiar brilliance of each is so distinct that, like two 
gems of fabulous value in the hands of a judge, the one could 



44 2 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

not be mistaken for the other. But it is not needful to judge 
these two minds one with the other, but in the light of them 
to view the handiwork of Lord Bacon in the same direction, 
to examine his similes; and not with the intention to dis- 
cover a dull stone against a brilliant, but to prove it, however 
solid and true and genuine, certainly not one of the same 
class. 

"Glorious gifts and foundations are 'like sacrifices with- 
out salt.' " 

"Like the market, where many times, if you can stay a 
little, the price will fall." 

" Like common distilled waters, fiashy things." 

" Like precious odors, most fragrant when they are in- 
censed or crushed." 

" Like an ill mower, that mows on still, but never whets 
his scythe." 

" Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set." 

These are good for every-day wear. Not one of them has, 
or admits of, that characteristic which makes the simile so 
attractive to an accomplished elocutionist. But they all have 
the feature, which I before mentioned, of an explanatory ap- 
pendage. How practical the character of the invention that 
calls them forth ! and how completely stamped, like the 
others, with the individuality of the author, and indicative of 
a handiwork utterly incapable of claiming the signet furnished 
by the examples above ! 

It would be as easy to suppose, by these evidences, Bacon 
and Shelley to have been one and the same author as that these 
several specimens of Shakespeare and of Bacon could proceed 
from one and the same mind. 

But so unlike is Bacon psychologically in his avowed 
works to Shakespeare, that he affords almost no opportunity 
to institute comparisons. Where we would advance the 
characteristic embodiments of human passion and emotion 
emanating from Shakespeare, we turn to Bacon to find no- 
thing but a negative ; no examples whatever with which to 
compare those individual flashes of fire and soul, by which 
Shakespeare appears as the master of the human heart. To 
speak in elocutionary terms, where can we find in Bacon pas- 



- The Euphonic Test. 443 

sages admitting of guttural vibration, embodying the senti- 
ments of scorn, pride, spleen, and aversion, such as may be 
found in " Coriolanus " and in " Timon of Athens " ? Where 
any such opportunities of abrupt utterance bearing, like light- 
ning flashes, the vocal symbol of anger, such as Shakespeare 
presents frequently enough, but more particularly in " Richard 
II," in the character of Margaret of Anjou, in "Richard III," 
and in " King Lear"? Where the possibilities of the aspi- 
rate, in its several features of heartfelt earnestness growing 
out of a variety of emotions ? Where the expression of sar- 
casm and irony, as it attaches to Constance, in the midst of 
her maternal grief? To Fauleonbridge, with his humorous 
sallies ? To Margaret of Anjou, in her panther-like rage ? 
We might as reasonably demand the same throughout nearly 
the whole scale of the passions. Indeed, within the whole of 
this range of mental forces we can turn all the angles of re- 
flection to view, and exhibit the many colors of this psycho- 
logical polygon as of Shakespearean identity ; but, against all 
these, in Bacon we find nothing but a plain surface. And 
(supposing him capable of the Shakespearean dramas) the evi- 
dence that, when Bacon wrote as Bacon, he was certainly able 
to send all these mighty energies to sleep, and to float some- 
what as a flat-bottomed boat over a smooth lake ; although, 
according to the upholders of the theory which we are called 
upon to refute, when he undertook to write the tasks of 
Shakespeare, he became a new man ; all his scholarly decorum 
he dashed aside ; his usual mathematical sentences (1 a and 2 
&, 2 a and 4 b) were never allowed to occur ; no longer spake 
he as if he said, "I am Sir Oracle " ; and, getting completely 
out of his flat boat, his rugged way is now on the highest 
crests and in the deepest valleys of the aDgry ocean. 



444 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



CHAPTER XL. 

THE EUPHONIC TEST (CONTINUED). 

In this chapter will be found the conclusion of the re- 
markable analysis by Professor Taverner, accompanied by the 
opinions to which the examination brings him. His views 
are of great force, and there is one point in particular in 
which the Professor is exceedingly strong, and which it will 
be perceived also is entirely new. He calls attention to the 
fact that, while the text of Shakespeare is so full of trite legal 
expressions as to induce even an English lord chief justice 
to make an argument that he had been bred a lawyer, or was, 
at least, an articled attorney's clerk, Lord Bacon, who, it is 
known, was thoroughly a lawyer, very rarely allows himself 
to be betrayed into a legal phrase. The only one instance of 
any importance (says the Professor) which appears in Bacon's 
voluminous text, is his use of the word caveat — a word which 
does not appear in Shakespeare at all. And this omission, the 
Professor infers, would be all the more surprising if the author 
of the writings of Bacon and Shakespeare were one and the 
same man, since the word caveat, meaning simply a warning, 
would have come naturally to the writer's mind in many of 
the exigencies of his dramatic scenes. I will add also, for 
myself, that the word caveat is so full of musical balance and 
tone, that Shakespeare would have been likely to have used 
it often, had he been as legally familiar with it as was Bacon. 
But I think that Professor Taverner, though quite correct in 
saying Shakespeare never used the word caveat in any of his 
recognized productions, has overlooked the fact that our poet 



.The Euphonic Test, 445 

has presented it, in the slightly altered form of caveto, in the 
mouth of Ancient Pistol. 

In " Henry Y," Act II, Scene 3, when Pistol is about 
going on with Nym and Bardolph to the wars in France, he 
conjures Dame Quickly, whom he has profitably made his 
wife, to heware how she allows irresponsible persons to run 
up tavern scores : 

Pistol. My love, give me thy lips. 

Look to my chattels and my movables ; 
Let senses rule: the word is "Pitch and Pay, Trust none; " 
For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer cakes, 
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck ; 
Therefore caveto he thy counsellor. 

There can hardly be a doubt that this term caveto is Pis- 
tol's bombastic version of the plain word caveat, or caution. 

That portion of the Professor's treatise which is surmounted 
with the inter-heading of "Mental Differences of the Two 
Men mathematically demonstrated," is also specially worthy 
of consideration. The parallelisms between Shakespeare and 
Lyly, in this connection, are likewise very curious. The Pro- 
fessor resumes his task as follows] : 

RETROGRESSION. 

Much that is submitted in this chapter it was intended 
should have appeared in the earlier part of my last communi- 
cation ; it follows that some portion of that also was intended 
as a sequence to this. Under these circumstances, the reader 
may perchance discover some appearance of repetition, as well 
as unavoidable retrogression, in the argument. This, it is 
hoped, will be overlooked. I was certainly compelled to wait 
until the passages which I had selected from Bacon for special 
interrogation were kind enough to reveal to me something of 
their idiosyncrasies, and the time that has been afforded me 
for further scrutiny has elicited some features of importance 
which I was unable to perceive before. 

THE LAW OF RHYTHM. 

This investigation has been fraught with difficulty, in con- 
sequence of its being necessary to seek for manifestation of 



446 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

laws of rhythm in prose composition, where it has been very 
truly said that " its range is so wide that we can never antici- 
pate its flow." For what is rhythm ? It is but that law of 
succession which is the regulating principle of every whole 
that is made up of proportional parts; it is present in the 
dance, when we consider it as applied to things of motion ; its 
intervals are to be detected in sculpture and architecture, in 
our furniture and ornaments, where we see it extended to 
things of matter ; but, when we consider it in its relation to 
sound, it is potent in the highest degree in music and in 
poetry, and the manipulation of it by Shakespeare in his 
blank verse is definite in the extreme, and the laws of rhythm 
there maintained are so perfect and reliable as to become from 
time to time an index to his meaning where our keenest dis- 
criminations are liable to be misled, and would otherwise fail. 
For all verse may be defined as a succession of articulate 
sounds, " regulated by a rhythm so definite, that we can readi- 
ly foresee the results which follow." That is, that the recur- 
rence of the accents at such points have that degree of regu- 
larity, that we anticipate the return of the accent, but in 
prose we are not able so to anticipate its recurrence, while the 
pleasure we derive from verse is founded on this very antici- 
pation. It may be seen, then, the difficulty that has been 
here encountered, and what immense difference and advan- 
tage it would have been, had we had instead to judge of 
blank verse on both sides. 

DIVERSE MUSICAL EAR OF SHAKESPEARE AND BACON. 

Shakespeare and Bacon looked upon the same events, read 
the same authors, their minds were brought very much under 
the same popular influence, yet their writings do not indicate 
any such resemblance as even these considerations would 
justify, much less any approach to that identity in thought, 
word, phrase, melody, and psychological bias which would be 
more than possible if the Baconian theory were true. But, 
on the contrary, as we shall see, these writings contain most 
unquestionable marks of being derived from natures totally 
diverse, dictated by a very opposite life purpose, and molded 
and expressed by a distinct musical sense or ear. Moreover, 






The Euphonic Test. 447 

it could be shown, if so extensive and nice an investigation 
were desirable, and I were not restricted in the direction of 
my thoughts, that among the words employed by Bacon, not 
merely technical but literary words, are many that do not ap- 
pear in Shakespeare, and that innumerable Shakespearean 
words Bacon fails to use. A single yet noteworthy instance oc- 
curs on the first page of Bacon's " Works." Among the argu- 
ments used on the side of the Bacon theory, that Shakespeare 
had legal training and culture, one is that he so often illus- 
trates a thought by an appropriate legal term. How is it 
then that Bacon, being a lawyer, so very seldom himself uses 
a legal phrase by way of illustration ? 



A PECULIAR PROOF OF LEGAL DIFFERENCE.. 

And in this one rare instance that I remember, which oc- 
curs on his first page, he uses the term a " caveat" and it is 
somewhat to the point to say that that term, so ready to 
spring from the mind of Bacon, is not found in Shakespeare. 
And, moreover, what is its definition % a caution, a warning 
— pretty wide scope for its use. How many hundreds of times 
in all the cross purposes of the drama would opportunity and 
need for this expression arise ! But never by any chance is 
it mentioned by Shakespeare as a " caveat" Surely, to judge 
Shakespeare as learned in the law, because of his use of ordi- 
nary legal phrases, might have the shadow of a reason if the 
doctor and the lawyer had not, in all times, furnished society 
with an apt quotation to be employed with zest by everybody 
except themselves. Let me repeat, then, that, as far as this 
article is concerned, it is intended chiefly to prove that the 
Shakespeare dramas can not be said to exhibit any of the 
peculiar analogies, the phrase constructions, the prose melo- 
dies, and other external features, which remain to be set forth 
as Baconianisms / nor, on the other hand, can Bacon's works 
show any reproduction of the style and form of metaphor and 
simile common to Shakespeare, nor any repetition of those 
more subtile forms of melody and cadence, which proceed from 
the dictates of the musical sense, and are characteristic of the 
prose passages of the plays. 



448 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

MENTAL DIFFERENCE MATHEMATICALLY DEMONSTRATED. 

Besides thus comparing these authors with themselves, it 
will be somewhat parallel, and a step further in confirmation 
of their non-identity, to compare each of them with another, 
where one is found to agree and the other to disagree. This 
is to follow a good axiom in mathematics, that, where one is 
like and the other unlike to a third, they must be unlike to 
each other. I refer to the writings of Lyly. Whether it is 
to be considered that Shakespeare so often imitated these 
writings because of his admiration and appreciation of their 
merits ; or whether it was, as some have held, in sarcastic de- 
rision of some false conceit or pompous expression ; or because 
of his readiness to take advantage of any popular excitement, 
which has been pointed out, for this reason he gave to the 
public on every new occasion scraps from writings so popular 
with distinguished patrons of the drama, as is recorded to be 
in the mouth of every lady at court — it matters not : the fact 
remains that these resemblances or parodies extensively exist, 
and are to be found in so many of the plays, both tragedies 
and comedies; while the writings of Bacon are not in any 
way affected from the same source. 1 The collated passages, 
highly interesting of themselves, from which I shall quote but 
a few examples, are taken from an admirable and most con- 
cise publication by William Lowes Rushton. [" Shakespeare's 
Euphuisms," Longman, Green & Co., London, 1871.] 

" The Euphues of Lyly was published before Shakespeare 
began to write for the stage. It is said that ' all the ladies of 
the time were Lyly's scholars, she who spoke not euphuism 
being as little regarded at court as if she could not speak 

1 John Lyly, or Lilly, born 1553, died 1600, M. A., of Oxford, a court 
wit and poet. "His elaborate, fanciful, and dainty style became the 
model of court conversation"; it is parodied in Sir Pierce Shafton's 
speeches in " The Monastery," and in "Love's Labour's Lost" in "Don 
Armado." He wrote plays and songs ; was parodied in Marston's " What 
You Will," and Jonson's " Cynthia's Eevels." He founded a new EDglish 
style, marked by fantastic similes and illustrations, formed by attributing 
fanciful and fabulous properties to animals, vegetables, and minerals. — 
"Encyclopaedia." 



The Euphonic Test. 449 

French,' and that 'his invention was so curiously strung that 
Elizabeth's court held his notes in admiration.' " 



PARALLELISMS OF SHAKESPEARE AND LYLY. 

Shakespeare and Lyly use often the same phrases, the 
same thoughts, and play upon the same words. 

It is evident that Shakespeare was very familiar with this 
book, wherein I see the origin of many of the famous passages 
in his works. ISTo line of Shakespeare's has been so much 
questioned and curiously regarded as this one in " As You 
Like It": 

"Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. 1 ' 

The passage bearing a similar reference, in Lyly, reads 
thus :• 

" That the fayrer the stone is in the Toade's head, the more 
pestilent the poyson is in her bowelles ; that talk, the more it 
is seasoned with fine phrases, the lesse it savoreth of true 
meaning." 

"Far from her nest the lapwing cries away," 

says Shakespeare (" Comedy of Errors," Act IY, Scene 2). 

"Lapwing . . . flyeth with a false cry farre from their 
nests, making those that look for them seek where they are 
not," were the words of Lyly. 

"Two may keep counsaile if one be away," 

is the smooth and almost bird-like utterance of Lyly's prose, 
from which Shakespeare makes a blank-verse line, with scarce 
an alteration : 

" Two may keep counsel, putting one away." 

"But the saying is true, * The e:npty vessel make? the greatest sound.'" 

Henry 7", Act IV, Scene 4. 

Where did Shakespeare find the saying? 

" The empty vessell giveth a greater sound than the full barrell." 

Bene. Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too 
brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise; only this com- 
29 



450 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

mendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were un- 
handsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. — "Muah 
Ado About Nothing," Act I, Scene 1. 

" I know not how I should commend your beauty, because it is some- 
what too brown ; nor your stature, being somewhat too low," etc. 

The advice of Euphues to Philautus is probably the origin 
of the advice of Polonius to Laertes : 

" And these few precepts in thy memory see thou character." 

" And to thee, Philautus, ... if these few precepts I give thee be 
observed." 

Some parts only of the following passages are placed close 
together, so that the resemblance between these few precepts 
may be more easily seen : 

Polonius. Give thy thoughts no tongue. 

Euphues. Be not lavish of thy tongue. 

Polonius. Do not dull thy palm with entertainment of each new- 
hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. 

Euphtjes. Every one that shaketh thee by the hand is not joined to 
thee in heart. 

Polonius. Beware of entrance to a quarrel. 

Euphues. Be not quarrellous for every light occasion. Beware, etc. 

Polonius. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice. 

Euphues. It shall be there better to hear what they say, than to speak 
what thou thinkest. 

There is much further resemblance to the advice of Polo- 
nius in other parts of Euphues : 

Polonius. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, but not expressed in 
fancy. 

Euphues. Let your attire be comely, but not costly. 

If Bacon had had to write Polonius's advice to his son, we 
may learn of what character it would be by consulting 
Bacon's three essays " Of Travel," "Of Cunning," and "Of 
Negotiating." These three essays of themselves, carefully 
studied, would fully convince that their author could never 
have produced Polonius's advice to his son. I do not, how- 
ever, intend to pursue that line of argument, but to peer at 
once, if I can, into the rhythm of Bacon's sentences, and ad- 



The Euphonic Test, 451 

vance to something that can be measured and counted. In 
his essay " Of Travel," he has this passage : 

" The things to be seen and observed are : the courts of 
princes, especially when they give audience to ambassadors; 
the courts of justice while they sit and hear causes : and so of 
consistories ecclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with 
the monuments which are therein extant ; the walls and forti- 
fications of cities and towns, and so the havens and harbours ; 
antiquities and ruins ; libraries, colleges, disputations, and 
lectures, where any are; shipping and navies; houses and 
gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities ; armouries, 
arsenals, magazines, exchanges, burses, warehouses, exercises 
of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like" 



Bacon's arena here, as elsewhere in all similar instances, 
embraces merely the municipality, or, at most, the nation; 
Shakespeare's is invariably the world. With Bacon it is 
society — not mankind — but the influential classes, and the 
things which they create of wealth and power; with Shake- 
speare it is Nature, and all those things of life and energy that 
spring from her teeming breast. With regard to the above 
extract, the musical ear of Shakespeare and Bacon may be 
therein shown to differ in two particulars: firstly, that when 
Shakespeare has occasion to present any such series of partic- 
ulars, he will not be found to continue a succession of couplets 
thus : " churches and monasteries," " walls and fortiti cations," 
of " cities and towns," and so the u havens and harbours," " an- 
tiquities and ruins," "shipping and navies"; nor. secondly 
will he ever, except sometimes for a comic effect, bring up 
Suddenly at the close of any such series with a jerk, like unte 
the above passage from Bacon ending with "and the like." 
But such terminations are by no means of rare occurrence with 
Bacon. They are innumerable. And among those ending 
with the same phrase we meet with : 

" — dreams, divinations, and the like." " — orators, pain- 
ful divines, and the like." " — sometimes upon colleagues, 
associates, and the like." " — lions, bears, camke, and the 



452 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

like." " — vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations,, 
imaginations as one would, and the like." 

" Sometimes purging ill-humours, sometimes opening the 
obstructions, sometimes helping the digestions, sometimes 
increasing appetite, sometimes healing wounds, ulcerations 
thereof, and the like." 

So, also, in further illustration of this "chippy" ending, 
take the following passage : 

"For, as the astronomers do well observe, that when three 
of the superior lights do meet in conjunction, it bringeth forth 
some admirable effects." Really! it bringeth forth admirable 
effects ! 

Obvious as it appears to me, it would perhaps amount to 
little in argument to urge that it would be impossible for 
Shakespeare to have written the above passage. But we will 
proceed to examine how the musical faculty of Shakespeare is 
governed in bringing to a close any similar succession of par- 
ticulars. His invariable method is so to construct the termina- 
tional words — and the same would be true in the event of any 
climax — as to afford the opportunity of what is known in 
elocii ion as harmonic or climacteric couplets, which impart 
something of a triumphant flourish at the end. So uniform 
is this, that it matters not where in Shakespeare we take our 
illustration. Whether it be Biutus's speech to the Romans, 
or Mark Antony's oration, or any of Henry the Fifth's 
speeches to his soldiers, or his address to Lord Scroop, the 
result would be, in all instances, the same. We will choose 
an illustration of no more elevated a style than Biondello's 
descriptions of Petruehio and Grumio. In the first descrip- 
tion, that of Petruehio, the last item, is " a woman's crupper 
qfvelure" which has this sort of pendant for a finish : 

" "Which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and 
here and there pieced with pack-thread." 

Now this is the flourish of which I spoke, but for comic 
effect, as I was indicating, it is permitted to end as a sort of 
failure, with the objectionable jerk on pack-thread, which 
brings in the laugh, as every one will readily understand 



The Euphonic Test, 453 

who is in any way conversant with the tricks of low comedi- 
ans. In the other instance, the description of Gruraio is fin- 
ished off for a like effect, with this addendum : 

" A monster, a very monsteb in apparel ; and not like a Christian foot- 
boy, or a gentleman's lackey." 

In this he, the actor, is allowed to come off with the ap- 
pearance of more triumphant success : 

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old jerkin; a 
pair of old breeches, thrice turned ; a pair of boots that have been candle- 
cases, one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the 
town armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken 
points: his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle, and stirrups of no 
kindred: besides, possessed with the glanders, and like to mose in the 
•chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of wind- 
galls, sped with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives, 
stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots; swayed in the 
back, and shoulder-shotten; ne'er-legged before; and with a half-checked 
hit, and a head-stall of sheep's-leather, which, being restrained to keep 
him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots; 
one girth six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath 
two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there 
pieced with pack-thread. 

Bap. Who comes with him? 

Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; 
with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-ho3e on the other, 
gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and "the humour of forty 
fancies " pricked in't for a feather : a monster, a very monster in apparel; 
and not like a Christian fcot-boy, or a gentleman's lackey. 

Bacon's ear does not lead him to seek any such free, inde- 
pendent, and exultant expression of enthusiasm, of which this 
is somewhat indicative. 

When the subject is of a more serious and elevated charac- 
ter, this form of delivery centers in the cadence with force, 
grace, and dignity combined, producing the noblest effects 
known to the stage. 

The following, from Shakespeare, include nothing more 
than the cadences attending the climaxes and endings of the 
speeches from which they are taken. The effect, I think, will 
be felt by most people, especially those who have been attend- 
ants at the theatre. Nothing can be farther from Shake- 



454 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

speare than such terminations with which those culminating 
passages are contrasted : 

Do break the clouds \ as did the wives of Jewry 

At Herod's bloody hunting slaughter-men. Henry K 

Cry — God for Harry, England, and Saint George ! Henry K 

If that same demon, that hath gull'd thee thus, 

Should, with his lion gait, walk the whole world, 

He might return to vasty Tartar back 

And tell the legions ||— I can never win 

A soul so easy as that Englishman's. Henry V, 

Arrest them to the answer of the law ; — 

And God acquit them of their practices. Henry V. 

Look you here, 
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. 

Julius Ccesar. 
And put a tongue 
In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome | to rise and mutiny. Julius Ccesar* 

Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 

Cry Havoc, | and let slip the dogs of war ; 

That this foul deed shall smell above the earth 

With carrion men groaning for burial. Julius Ccesar* 

I'd make a quarry 
"With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high |J 
As I could pick my lance. Coriolanm. 

This grace and glow of termination are sometimes by 
Shakespeare aided by a rhyme : 

Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance 

After your thought, straight back again to France. Henry V. 

And grant as Timon grows, | his hate may grow 

To the whole race\\ of mankind, high and low. Timon of Athens, 

We'll then to Calais ; and to England then ; | . 

Where ne'er from France arrived more happy men. Henry V, 

Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me; | 

And may our oaths well kept and prosperous be. Henry V. 

You have now only to glance at the close of all or some of 
Bacon's essays, and of his other works, and the endings of his 
long paragraph^ to be satisfied that he never, from any sense 
of melody, seeks at any time to produce any such cadences 



The Euphonic Test. 455 

whatever. And the absence of this mode of termination in 
Bacon's writings indicates in him a very different musical 
sense or feeling from that of Shakespeare. As further con- 
firmation of Bacon's habitual omission in this respect when 
any such opportunity would occur, I shall trespass on the 
patience of your readers to give one or two very short extracts ; 
and I shall then endeavor to present other positive peculiari- 
ties of Bacon. 

Thus, in his fine essay on " Superstition," he says : 

" The causes of superstition are, pleasing and sensual rites 
and ceremonies; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness; 
over-great reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the 
Church ; the stratagems of prelates for their own ambition and 
lucre; the favouring too much of good intentions, which open- 
eth the gate to conceits and novelties ; the taking an aim at 
divine matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture 
of imaginations ; and, lastly, barbarous times, especially joined 
with calamities and disasters." 

Again, in his remarkable essay on " Travel," he remarks : 

" As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capi- 
tal executions, and such shows, men need not to be put in 
mind of them ; yet are they not to be neglected. If you will 
have a young man to put his travel into a little room and in 
short time to gather much, this you must do: first, as was 
said, he must have some entrance into the language before 
he goeth ; then he must have such a servant or tutor as know- 
eth the country, as was likewise said ; let him carry with him 
also some card, or book, describing the country when he trav- 
elleth, which will be a good key to his inquiry ; let him keep 
his diary ; let him not stay long in one city or town, more or 
less as the place deserveth, but not long ; nay, when he stay- 
eth in one city or town, let him change his lodgings from. one 
end and part of the town to another, which is a great adamant 
of acquaintance ; let him sequester himself from the company 
of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good 
company of the nation where he travelleth ; let him, upon his 
removes from one place to another, procure recommendation 
to some person of quality residing in the place whither he re- 



45 6 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

moveth, that he may use his favour in those things he desireth 
to see or know ; thus he may abridge his travel with much 
profits." 

I shall now proceed to furnish positive examples to prove 
that the musical guidance of the ear of Bacon tends, when- 
ever he speaks sententiously, aud the language admits of it, 
to equally balance his sentences and the clauses which they 
contain, one against the other, either regularly or alternately, 
by giving to them the same number of syllables, and also by 
some other expedients. "When the first member of a sentence, 
composed of four clauses, is short, and the following long, the 
corresponding clauses which follow, receive the same adjust- 
ment. For example : 

" Head not to contradict and confute, | Nor, to believe and 
take for granted ; | Nor, to find talk and discourse, | But to 
weigh and consider." 

The first two clauses are each of nine syllables ; the latter 
two clauses are each of seven. 

" These men mark when they hit, | but never when they 
miss." 

In each of these clauses there are the same number of syl- 
lables. 

" He that hath the best of these intentions | is an honest 
man ; | and that prince that can discern of these intentions, | 
is a very wise prince." 

Here the clauses are ten syllables and five, twelve sylla- 
bles and six. 

" He that seeketh to be eminent good, amongst able men, 
hath a great task, | but that is ever good for the public ; | but 
he that plotteth to be the only figure amongst cyphers, | is the 
decay of the whole age." 

Here the syllables are twenty to ten, and sixteen to eight. 

" They do best who if they cannot but admit love, | yet 
make it keep quarter ; | and sever it wholly from their serious 
affairs, | and actions of life." 

This passage presents an alteration, i. e., twelve syllables 



The Euphonic Test 457 

and six ; and then again, twelve syllables and six ; the word 
41 action" being pronounced in three syllables, as it was then. 
Is not this definite of the kind of melody of speech that 
belongs to Bacon ? How exact the ear! It counts its seconds 
like the pendulum of a clock. 

" The virtue of prosperity is temperance, | the virtue of 
adversity is fortitude." 

" Prosperity is the brains | of the Old Testament, | adver- 
sity is the brains | of the New." 

This gives the repetition of seven syllables, and the propor- 
tion of six and three. 

" It is better to have no opinion of God at all, | than such 
an opinion as is unworthy of Him ; | for the one is unbelief, 
the other is contumely." 

Here we have an example of three groups, each, of fourteen 
syllables. 

Like unto like, more than similarity, is the guiding law of 
Bacon's ear ; when, therefore, we can reflect a likeness in the 
sentences in some other way, he is equally gratified. Thus, if 
I use the terms " light" and " shadow " for expressions viewed 
with, or growing out of, a favorable or unfavorable sentiment 
in the mind (psychological bias), I can diagram the logical 
arrangement of the thought to which I allude, and this bal- 
ancing of ideas instead of syllables, somewhat after the fol- 
lowing manner : 

First Form : — Light — Shadow ; contrasted shadow, con- 
trasted light 1 or, 

Second Form : — Light — Shadow ; parallel light, parallel 
shadow; or, 

Third Form : — Amelioration of shadow : augmentation of 
shadow / arranged in the same order. 

These mental melodies, if I might so call them, are very 
extensive in Bacon. An example or two from the essay "Of 
Parents and Children " will suggest my meaning : 

" Children sweeten labours, | but they make misfortunes 
more bitter. | They increase the care of life, | but they miti- 
gate the remembrance of death." 



458 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" The joys of parents are secret, | and so are their griefs 
and fears / | they cannot utter the one, | nor they will not 
utter the other." 

These are sufficient, perhaps, to suggest this additional 
Baconianism, and to enable the reader to recognize in Bacon's 
works the numerous occurrences of this class. Many such 
illustrations would be tedious. All the sentences of Bacon 
that we have been scanning thus far were composed of either 
two clauses or of four ; but the most remarkable peculiarity in 
Bacon, in this feature of the rhythmical adjustment of clauses, 
attaches to those sentences of his which are composed of triple 
clauses of equal dimensions, and which possess such regularity, 
which he never seeks to disturb but rather aims to accom- 
plish, as to bring a return unto the ear much like unto the 
repetition of the multiplication table in a village school. Let 
me give some illustrations of these, and I am sure you will ad- 
mit that they are just as regular as " three times three are 
nine, three times four are twelve, and three times five are 
fifteen." 

" A man cannot speak to his son but as a father, to his 
wife but as a husband, to his enemy but upon terms" 

" Some books are to be tasted, others are to be swallowed, 
and some few to be chewed and digested." 

" Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, 
and wise men use them." 

" Reading maketh & full man, confidence a ready man, 
and writing an exact man." 

" Judges ought to be more learned than witty, more rever- 
end than plausible, and more advised than confident." 

" The advantage ground to do good, the approach to kings 
and principal persons, and the raising of a man's own for- 
tunes." 

But the equality of these triple clauses is not the only 
rhythmical characteristic. Bacon's ear can stand a great deal 
more than that in the way of rigid and unbended rhythm. 
He avails himself, accordingly, of the place of the emphasis, 
and adheres to it with persistency. Therefore we find the 
emphasis regularly on the last word in the first and second 



The Euphonic Test. 459 

examples, on the last but one in the third and fourth exam- 
ples, on the last but two in the fifth example, and near the 
beginning (on the second word) in the sixth. 

It behooves us now to ascertain and show how Shake- 
speare acts when he is on the verge of making sentences 
like unto these ; when he has advanced so far that you may 
say he has either to perform the like or to avoid it. We 
know beforehand, because we are too familiar with his rhythm 
to expect to find his text to more resemble the prim regular- 
ity of a French garden than the free, wild nature of a tangled 
forest. 

Shakespeare does not appear to object to four or more 
clauses of somewhat equal character and duration, but he 
does to three. We find that, in avoiding this jingle of triple 
clauses, which we saw attached to those which we have pro- 
duced from Bacon, he either adds others or he so enlarges 
and amplifies the third clause that the effect is the same, 
e. g. : 

Makg. Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list ; nor 
I list not to think what I can ; nor — 

Much Ado About Nothing, Act III, Scene 4. 

Now, will not Shakespeare finish this sentence like unto 
Bacon ? Add but a few words and the thing would be done ; 
but no, indeed. This next clause is destined to break the 
regularity : 

" — Nay, by'r lady, I am not such a fool to think what I list; nor I 
list not to think what I can ; nor, indeed, I cannot think, if I would think 
my heart out of thinking, that you are in love, or that you will be in love, 
or that yon can be in love." 

The next example is from a speech of Benedict (" Much 
Ado About Nothing," Act I, Scene 1) : 

"That a woman conceived me, I thank her; that she brought me up 
I likewise give her most humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat, 
winded in my forehead, or hang my bugle in an invisible baldrick, all 
women shall pardon me." 

Can not ever}?- one see the greater perfection of this over 
the other regularity ? But that matters not ; we argue only 
for the distinction. 



460 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 

Not to go beyond " Much Ado About Nothing " to hunt 
for examples, take the following passage (Act IV, Scene 1) : 

Feiae. I have mark'd 

A thousand blushing apparitions start 
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ; 
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, 
To burn the errors that these princes hold 
Against her maiden truth. 

How evidsnt it is that another hand is here at work, and 
one that scrupulously avoids the characteristics of the Baco- 
nian sentences ! But a few lines further on in the same scene, 
we find a passage suited to our purpose. In the following 
fiery speech of Leonato, the father of the slandered Hero, 
observe the animated and stirring effect of Shakespeare's 
varied rhythm, produced in a way directly contrary to Bacon 
by a sudden change in the place of emphasis : 

Leon. If they speak but truth of her, 

These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, 

The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 

Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 

Nor age so eat up my invention, 

Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 

Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, 

But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, 

Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, 

Ability in means, and choice of friends, 

To quit me of them thoroughly. 

Not another line need be presented to establish the dis- 
tinction between the music and melody of such passages as 
we have reviewed in Bacon and this which reigns in Shake- 
speare. 

Although I am supposed to be confined to narrower and 
more technical limits, to which I have sought to keep, it 
may not be considered improper of me, in closing these re- 
marks, to advert in the briefest manner to a single feature of 
individuality which we think paramount in our poet. 



The Euphonic Test. 461 



SUPERIOR BREADTH OF HIS NATURE. 

What, then, of that wide and wonderful sympathy with 
human nature which he must have had, and by which alone 
he could so have depicted the wide tide of passions and the 
innermost emotions of both man and woman, all of which he 
must have been able so keenly to feel? And where, in Ba- 
con, do we find the evidence of the possession of such sym- 
pathy ? To listen to these secret throbs of human emotion in 
any great degree, we should need to travel over his whole 
continent. But, as here the comparison on our side is as "all 
the world to nothing," I may well rest content by simply 
helping the reader, out of his own abundance of recollections, 
to recall one or two as they come to my own mind. Go with 
me, then, to look upon Lear, "as mad as the vexed sea," and, 
in the midst of thunders and lightnings, addressing first these 
awful forces of Nature, and then, from them, the equally aw- 
ful iniquities of the world : 

"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! 
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout! 
Yon sulphurous and thonglit-execnting fires, 
Vaunt couriers of oak-cleaving thunder- bolts. 

And thou, all-shaking thunder, 
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! 

Let the great gods, 
That keep this dreadful pudder o'er our heads, 
Find out their enemies now. 

Tremble, thou wretch, 
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
Unwhipp'd of justice! 

Hide thee, thou bloody hand ; 
Thou perjur'd, and thou simular man of virtue 
That art incestuous : Caitiff, to pieces shake, 
That under covert and convenient seeming 
Hast practis'd on man's liie ! Close pent-up guilts, 
Eive your concealing continents, and cry 
These dreadful summoners grace." 

Look upon Coriolanus, like a mad and wounded lion, and 
with his heart " made too great for what contains it " : 



462 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

" Out me to pieces, Volsces ; men and lads, 
Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False hound! 
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, 
That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I 
Flutter'd your Volscians in Oorioli." 

Step stealthily, lighted by the moon, to the presence of 
Juliet's body in the tomb ; place yourself in the darkness, and 
there hear Romeo, with a broken heart, murmur to himself: 

" 0, here 
Will I set up my everlasting rest ; 
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
From this world-wearied flesh." 

And after an ominous silence, as with one swoop, he seeks the 
silent shore with his desperate and life-destroying agent: 

"Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick, weary bark! " 

Recall, in like manner, the other tragic characters of this 
poet in the hours of their greatest anguish, and tell me if these 
are not individual experiences of which Bacon gives no pos- 
sible indication. But this is superfluous, because, as I have 
said, there is nothing in the Baconian treasury with which to 
compare these crises of emotion; they belong to the one 
structure of all others in the world, but one so conspicuous 
that it stands high above all that genius has raised on the 
face of the earth, so towering and wide that the Pyramids of 
Egypt can not hide it ; more complex and infinitely richer 
in its art contents than that of St. Peter's at Rome, stands 
this treasure-house, over whose gates is inscribed the one 
name, 

SHAKESPEARE ! 



Recapitulation and Conclusion. 463 



CHAPTEE XLI. 

RECAPITULATION AND CONCLUSION. 

"With the euphonic or rhetorical test, as applied respect- 
ively to the verbal music and rhythmical modes of expres- 
sion of Shakespeare and Sir Francis Bacon, terminates the 
inquiry upon the question of dramatic authorship as between 
them ; and I think it will be conceded by every reader that I 
was fortunate in being able to intrust the elocutionary por- 
tion of the problem to Professor Taverner. Indeed, he has 
been so masterly in his analysis, and has brought to the treat- 
ment of the question confided to him such an amount of 
philosophic insight and consideration, that no reenforcement 
of his argument is required at my hands. We perceive that 
the contrasts of literary style are, under the direction of the 
ear, as distinct and various as the inflections of the human 
voice, and through his examples it becomes apparent, to any 
one who has crossed even the threshold of the euphonic mys- 
teries, that it is as impossible for the comparatively cold ear 
of Lord Bacon to have been the minstrel of the melodious 
plays of Shakespeare as it would have been for Dante to 
have produced the verse of Petrarch, or for Carlyle to have 
written the sonnets of Tom Moore. Indisputably, our poet 
was the great master of that school of prose melodists of 
which Gibbon, Addison, Dr. Johnson, Junius, Macaulay, and 
Newman are subordinate examples, while Bacon, on the 
other hand, may be said to lead the colder school, of which 
cur readiest example is Carlyle. 

I have but to add, in closing this portion of my under- 
taking, that the euphonic or musical test was no part of my 



464 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

original purpose. But, though it presented itself, incident- 
ally, during the course of the Baconian analysis, I iind no 
reason to regret the space it has required. To the multitude, 
its proofs may appear less potent than some others I have 
advanced, but with scholars and rhetorical experts the eu- 
phonic test will probably be more fatal to the Baconian 
theory than any other. 

The religious test also sprang incidentally from the dis- 
pute of authorship, for it must be obvious that a theological 
inquiry could have originally been assigned no position in an 
examination which proceeded from an American point of 
view. It will be perceived, therefore, that I had no sectarian 
aim to serve, as some have charged, while the foregoing chap- 
ters were in course of serial publication. The sectarian in- 
quiry grew from the numerous evidences of a devotional 
Komanistic spirit in the Shakespearean text, and, as these all 
ran one way, and breathed one sectarian tone, and, what was 
still more significant, as the writer of the plays frequently 
contrasted these Catholic solemnities with a vehement con- 
tempt for the reformed faith, and for Protestants of every 
degree, it was impossible to leave the religious inquiry out of 
the discussion. I am not responsible for the proofs I have 
adduced ; but I am free to say that I can conceive of no reason 
why the Protestant Lord Bacon should have secretly slan- 
dered his much exhibited belief, nor how such a peculiarly 
practical nature as his could have enjoyed such a pointless 
perfidy, under the cowardly mask of an alias. 

It has been said, by way of explaining the Romanism of 
Shakespeare's writings, and of his custom of arraying his 
most estimable characters in the vestments of the Latin 
Church, that the plots of his plays are placed before his time, 
and that his persons must necessarily be of the Catholic faith ; 
but this does not explain onr poet's minute familiarity with 
the formula and doctrines of the Boman faith ; since it is 
well known that no Catholic services were permitted by law 
to be performed in England during Shakespeare's period, nor 
does this suggestion quite account for the predilection exhib- 
ited by the writer of the plays to buriesque and scandalize 
Protestants and the Protestant faith. In the discussion of the 



Recapitulation and Conclusion. 465 

Baconian theory, therefore, the religious point must be re- 
garded as the domineering test ; for, unless it can be shown 
that Bacon was secretly a Catholic, the Shakespearean plays 
can not possibly be attributed to him. 

The question as to the legal attainments of our poet, 
which has attracted great attention through the opinions of 
Lord Chief Justice Campbell, is only second in importance, 
on the point of authorship, to the sectarian inquiry. In deal- 
ing with this unexpected difficulty, I found myself involved 
with the dangerous responsibility of often not agreeing with 
such high authority as Lord Campbell, and even of express- 
ing, now and then, very different views from those which the 
text had suggested to his lordship. And, in a general way, 
it seemed to me that his lordship, in replying to Mr. Payne 
Collier's inquiry as to the extent of Shakespeare's legal 
attainments, with the view of testing the Baconian theory, 
took too narrow a gauge — when attempting to show that 
Shakespeare might have been an attorney or an attorney's 
clerk — to measure the legal stature of Lord Bacon. 

We know that Bacon was not only master of the pro- 
foundest lore of his profession, but we always find him hand- 
ling his facts in the broadest and most philosophical spirit ; 
while, on the other hand, the writer of the plays constantly 
violates all the congruities and philosophy of law, and exhib- 
its such a legal deficiency in his moral adjustments of rewards 
and punishments, and, particularly, evinces such indifference 
to the instinctive logic of retaliation, that it is utterly unrea- 
sonable to attribute the authorship of these productions to a 
lawyer of any degree, much less to such a lawyer as Lord 
Bacon. 

The plays most conspicuous for these legal errors and de- 
ficiencies are : The " Two Gentlemen of Verona," " The 
Comedy of Errors," " Measure for Measure," the " Winter's 
Tale," and, most notably, " The Merchant of Venice." The 
examination of these productions, from the point of view I 
indicate, will doubtless be as destructive of the Baconian 
fallacy with lawyers as the demonstrations of the euphonic 
test must be with rhetoricians, or of the religious test with 
sectarians. 

30 



466 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

We may be told, at this stage, that such an extent of 
search and demonstration as I have devoted to these Baconian 
points is not necessary to dispose of a bubble which had never 
floated among the public with any amount of success ; and 
we may be flippantly assured that the inexorable reasoning 
faculty of Time alone would of itself dispel the fallacy ; but 
such contemptuous treatment is not adequate to the destruc- 
tion of a theory which has received the support of such minds 
as that of Lord Palmerston in England, and such scholars and 
critics as Judge Holmes and General Butler in America. 
Bubbles thus patronized must be entirely exploded, or they 
will be sure to reappear, whenever the world has a sick or 
unwholesome hour, when delusions find their opportunity to 
strike. Moreover, nothing is lost by our inquiries, after all, 
beyond a little time ; and I doubt not that all true admirers 
of our poet will agree that one new ray of light which may 
thus be thrown upon the character and history of Shake- 
speare will justify octavos of discussion. 

It was the Baconian pretension, at any rate, which gave 
the deciding impulse to the undertaking of this work. My 
original intention had been to confine my labor to an exami- 
nation of the plays, with the view solely of ascertaining the 
character of Shakespeare's social and political sympathies from 
an American point of view, but it has been seen how this mo- 
tive has been involuntarily extended, and how utterly free it 
has been from any special design to undervalue Shakespeare's 
acquirements, his morals, or his genius. It is by no means an 
agreeable task to expose the deformities of one's favorite au- 
thor; nevertheless, all mere mortals must be held responsible 
in the general interest of mankind for their errors, and the 
duty of exhibiting these errors is all the more incumbent 
according to the intellectual altitude of the author who com- 
mits them. The world must move on, and Shakespeare must 
face the ordeal of improved ideas with all others ; and those 
who love him most may solace themselves with the reflection 
that there will be more renown left to him, even after his 
purgation, than to any other poet of the world. 

It undoubtedly gives many well-intentioned persons pain 
to have to tear and patch a favorite ideal, but, as I have al- 






Recapitulation and Conclusion. 467 

read j said, the general interests of mankind are superior to 
personal considerations, and it is weak to resist any process 
that is required by reason. The blind idolaters of Daute, 
doubtless, protested in their time against the frankness of the 
writers who showed him to be mean, crafty, and malignant ; 
so, likewise, have admiring biographers of Bacon protested 
against the exposures which justified Pope in characterizing 
him as " the wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind " ; but the 
just condemnation of moral defects does not prevent Dante 
from being worshiped to this day as the loftiest of the Ital- 
ian poets, or deduct, in the least, from the renown of Bacon, 
as the greatest philosophical writer of any land or age. 

When, therefore, we find. Shakespeare, despite the clear- 
ness of his observation and of his towering capacity, deliber- 
ately falsifying history in order to check the march of liberal 
ideas, as in his willful misrepresentation of the patriotic leader 
whom he chooses to vilify as Jack Cade, 1 or as in his patron- 
age of despotism, murder, and incest, through his attractive 
and popular portrait of Henry VIII; when we hear him 
commending the massacre of thousands, in violation of solemn 
terms of truce, as in " Henry IY," Part Second, and in the 
Second Part of " Henry VI " ; when we listen to his inculca- 
tions of contempt for mechanics and mechanical pursuits, and 
note his unbounded detestation for ail the laboring classes, as 
in " Coriolanus," and, indeed, throughout his works — we of 
this day and country feel bound to interpose our protest, and 
to question his right of respect for these opinions in either 
English or American modern households. 

It has been pleaded that the manners and morals of the 
age in which Shakespeare lived excuse not only his political 
illiberality, but palliate even the occasional coarseness of his 
text ; but this defense becomes of very little weight when we 
find the same age producing historians who prided themselves 
on their veracity, even when it ran counter to the court, and 
by writers whose chaste and decorous style commended their 
works to a large contemporaneous popularity. Of these 
latter, Lord Bacon, whose page was always pure, was a bright 
example, while Hall and Holinshed, the historians of the day, 
1 See pp. 232-239. 



468 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

are a standing reproach to Shakespeare, since A he followed 
their chronicles faithfully in all that enabled him to eulogize 
the nobles, but perverted them at once whenever he had an 
opportunity to vilify the people. It is always a doubtful 
privilege for a writer to tamper with the rigors of history, 
even to aid a moral purpose, but nothing can palliate a delib- 
erate untruth for the purposes of evil. 

It may be thought by some that I have been too diligent 
in searching for evidences of Shakespeare's servility to rank 
but the candid reader will do me the justice to observe that I 
have not offered every instance as an argument, and will also 
bear in mind that my engagement to give every expression 
tending to illustrate that point left me no discretion. I had 
constituted the reader as the judge, and accumulation even of 
trifles has a certain gravity of which he had the right to 
weigh. Accumulations of an unvarying tendency form pre- 
sumptions, and presumptions, though not conclusive, have a 
logical bearing on a case. 

Candid readers will likewise do me the justice to observe 
that, earnest as I have been in some of my condemnations of 
the Shakespeare text, I am far behind several of the most 
eminent English critics in their censure of our poet's faults. 
Dr. Johnson says, in his incomparable preface, that Shake- 
speare " has faults sufficient to obscure and overwhelm any 
other merit " ; that he sacrifices virtue to convenience, and is 
so much more careful to please than to instruct that he seems 
to write without any moral purpose; that he makes no just 
distribution of good and evil, nor is always careful to show, 
in the virtuous, a disapprobation of the wicked ; he carries 
his persons indifferently through right or wrong, and at the 
close dismisses them without further care, and leaves their 
examples to operate by chance. This fault the barbarity of 
his age can not extenuate, for it is always a writer's duty to 
make the world better, and justice is a virtue independent of 
time or place." In speaking of " Love's Labour's Lost," Dr. 
Johnson declares the play to be " filled with passages that are 
mean, childish, and vulgar, and some which ought not to have 
been exhibited, as we are told they were, before a maiden 
queen." 



Recapitulation and Conclusion. 469 

Ben Jonson, when told that Shakespeare had never 
"blotted out a line, wished " that he had blotted out a thou 
sand." Bagehot says that Shakespeare had two leading polit- 
ical ideas : " First, the feeling of loyalty toward the ancient 
polity of his country, not because it was good, but because it 
existed. . . . The second peculiar tenet of his political creed 
is a disbelief in the middle classes. We fear he had no opin- 
ion of traders. . . . You will generally find that, when a 
citizen is mentioned, he is made to do or to say something 
absurd." 

Says Hazlitt : " The whole dramatic moral of ' Coriolanus ' 
is, that those who have little shall have less, and that those who 
have much shall take all that the others have left. The peo- 
ple are poor, therefore they ought to be starved. They work 
hard, therefore they ought to be treated like beasts of burden. 
They are ignorant, therefore they ought not to be allowed to 
feel that they want food, or clothing, or rest, or that they are 
enslaved, oppressed, or miserable." 

Gervinus, the master of the German Shakespeareans, tak- 
ing up this view of Hazlitt's, remarks that " Shakespeare had a 
leaning to the aristocratical principle, inasmuch as he does 
not dwell on the truths he tells of the nobles in the same pro- 
portion as he does on those he tells of the people." 

All of these censures are more than justified by the illus- 
trations I have given from the plays. Nevertheless, I have not 
gone so far as Dr. Johnson, when he says that Shakespeare 
"has faults sufficient to obscure and overwhelm any other 
merit," for at the end of this inquiry I find myself still of the 
opinion that his merits largely outweigh his faults, and ad- 
here to the expression of my preface, that "his works are the 
richest inheritance of the intellectual world " ; that he is, in 
short, the one man who, above all others, whether alive or 
dead, has contributed more happy hours to the civilized world, 
.certainly to those in it who speak his language, than any 
other man who ever lived. 

In concluding my task, I have only to add that, if I have 
^contributed any new light to a subject which has taxed many 
patient intellects so long, I am sufficiently well paid. 



470 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View, 



POSTSCEIPT. 

Few Yoke, November, 1876. 

Just as I have brought my labors to a close, here comes 
to me a little volume contaiDing some evidence on the subject 
of Shakespeare's personal history, which I deem worthy of 
being presented in connection with Professor Tavern er's- 
analysis. It is entitled " Bacon versus Shakespeare : a Plea 
for the Defendant. By Thomas D. King, Montreal and 
Rouse's Point, E"ew York. Level Printing and Publishing 
Company, 1875." The entire of Mr. King's volume is ingen- 
ious and well written. Toward the close of his book he pre- 
sents some exceedingly curious observations respecting the 
evident Warwickshire origin of our poet, coinciding with our 
musical point. 1 Says Mr. King : 

"Johnson, himself born in a neighboring county, first pointed out that 
the expression l a mankind witch,' in ' The Winter's Tale' (Act II, Scene 
3) was a phrase in the Midland Counties for a violent woman. And Ma- 
lone, too, showed that the singular expression in ' The Tempest ' (Act I, 
Scene 2), ' we can not miss him,' was a provincialism of the same districts 
It is not asserted that certain phrases and expressions are to be found 
nowhere else but in Shakespeare and Warwickshire. But it is interesting 
to know that the Warwickshire girls still speak of their 'long purples ' and 
'love in idleness'; and that the Warwickshire boys have not forgotten 
their ' deadmen's fingers ' ; and that the ' nine men's morris ' is still played 
on the corn-bins of the Warwickshire farm stables and still scored upon 

1 Bacon was born in York House, London. York House stood on the 
site of the old Hungerford Market, close by the Charing Cross Railway- 
Station, and has an existing record in Inigo Jones's graceful water-gate,, 
half buried at the end of Northumberland Street. 



Postscript, 471 

the greensward; and that Queen Titania would not have now to com- 
plain, as she did in ' The Midsummer Night's Dream,' that it was choked 
up with mud ; and that ' Master Slender ' would find his shovel -board still 
marked on many a public-house table and window-sill ; and that he and 
* Master Fenton ' and ' good Master Brook ' would, if now alive, hear 
themselves still so called. 

"Take now, for instance, the word 'deck,' which is so common 
throughout the Midland Counties, but in Warwickshire is so often re- 
stricted to the sense of a hand of cards, and which gives a far better in- 
terpretation to Gloster's speech in the Third Part of ' King Henry VI ' 
(Act V, Scene 1) : 

" ' Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, 
But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, 
The king was slyly finger'd from the deck; ' 

as, of course, there might be more kings than one in a pack, but not ne- 
cessarily so in the hand. The word 'forecast,' too, both as verb and 
noun, is very common throughout both Warwickshire and the neighboring 
counties. Thi3 word 'forecast' is also used by Spenser, and others of 
Shakespeare's contemporaries; and, though obsolete, except among the 
peasantry of the Midland districts, is still employed by the best American 
authors. 

" All the commentators here explain pugging-tooth as a thievish tooth, 
an explanation which certainly itself requires to be explained ; but most 
Warwickshire country people could tell them that pugging-tooth was 
the same as pegging or peg-tooth, that is the canine or dog-tooth. ' The 
child has not its pegging-teeth yet,' old women still say. And thus all 
the difficulty as to the meaning is at once cleared. 

" But there is an expression used both by Shakespeare and his con- 
temporaries, which must not be so quickly passed over. Wherever there 
has been an unusual disturbance or ado, the lower orders round Strat- 
ford-on-Avon invariably characterize it by the phrase ' There has been old 
work to-day,' which well interprets the Porter's allusion in 'Macbeth' 
(Act III, Scene 3) : ' If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old 
turning the key,' which is simply explained in the notes as 'frequent,' 
but which means far more. So, in ' The Merchant of Venice ' (Act IV, 
Scene 2), Portia says : ' We shall have old swearing ' ; that is, very hard 
swearing. 

"A peculiar use of the verb 'quoth,' the Saxon preterite of to speak, 
is very noticeable among the lower orders in Warwickshire. Jerk, quoth 
the ploughshare ; that is, the ploughshare went jerk. 

"The expressive compound blood-bolter' d, in 'Macbeth' (Act IV, 
Scene 1), which the critics have all thought meant blood-stained ; now 
bolter is peculiarly a Warwickshire word, signifying to clot, collect, or 
cake, as snow does in a horse's hoof, thus giving the phrase a far greater 



47 2 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

fntensity of meaning. There is the word gull in ' Timon of Athens ' (Act 
II, Scene 1) : 

"But I do fear 

When every feather sticks in his own wing, 

Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, 

Which flashes now a phoenix ' ; 

which most of the critics have thought alluded to a sea-gull, whereas it 
means an unfledged nestling, which to this day is so called in Warwick- 
shire. And this interpretation throws a light on a passage in the First 
Part of ' King Henry YI ' (Act V, Scene 1) : 

" ' You used me so 
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
Useth the sparrow ' ; 

where some notes amusingly say that the word alludes to the voracity of 
the cuckoo. The Warwickshire farmers' wives, even now, call their 
young goslings gulls. 

" Contain yourself is a very common Warwickshire phrase for restrain 
yourself. Timon says to his creditor's servant, ' Contain yourself, good 
friend' ('Timon of Athens,' Act II,j8cene 2). In 'Troilus and Oressida' 
(Act Y, Scene 2), Ulysses says: 

" ' O, contain yourself, 
Your passion draws ears hither.' 

"In the 'Two Gentlemen of Yerona' (Act IY, Scene 4) we find 
Launce using the still rarer phrase of ' keep himself ' in the same sense to 
his dog Crab, when he says, ' O! 'tis a foul thing when a cur cannot keep 
[i. e., restrain [himself in all companies.' 

"From ' Shakespeareana Genealogica,' in the chapter headed 'Re- 
marks on Names belonging to Warwickshire,' alluded to in several plays, 
the following excerpts are taken : 

"Mr. Halliwell has shown that persons of the name of Ford, Page, 
Home, or Heme, belong to Stratford. In the records of the borough, 
published by that excellent writer, notices of receipts and payments are 
found, as follows : 

" ' 1597, R. of Thomas Fordes wrffe vi s. viij d.' 

" ' 1585, Paid to Heme for iij dayes work, ij s. vj d.' 

" The name of the melancholy lord Jaques belongs to Warwickshire, 
where it is pronounced as one syllable : ' Thomas Jakes, of Wonersh,' was 
one of the List of Gentry of the Shire, 12 Henry YI, 1433. At the sur- 
render of the Abbey of Kenilworth, 26 Henry VIII, 1535, the abbot was 
Simon Jakes, who had the large pension of one hundred pounds per 
annum granted to him. ('Monasticon,' vol. vi.) 

" A family by the name of Sly, rendered famous by their place in the 
Induction of the 'Taming of the Shrew,' resided at Stratford, and else- 



Postscript. 473 

where in the county, in the poet's time ; and he no doubt drew the por- 
trait of the drunken tinker from tbe life. Stephen Sly was a labourer in 
the employ of William Combe, 13 Jac. I, 1616. (Page 330, Halliwell's 
"Stratford Eecords.") 

"In the serious business of the 'Taming of the Shrew,' one of Pe- 
truchio's servants is called ' Curtis ' ; this was a Stratford name. Anne 
Curteys, widow, a knitter, was living there in 1607; and John Curteys, 
a carpenter, is found there in 1615. In Petruchio's household twelve or 
thirteen of his men-servants are named, of whom one only, the ' ancient, 
trusty, pleasant Grumio,' belongs to Italy ; all the rest are most thoroughly 
English ; and, as Philip, Nathaniel, Nicholas, Joseph, and Gabriel are not 
uncommon names, we incline to believe that Shakespeare took them from 
his contemporaries Philip Henslowe, Nathaniel Field, Nicholas Tooley* 
Joseph Taylor, and probably Gabriel Harvey, a poet, the friend of Spenser. 

" Among the characters in the play of ' Henry V ' are three soldiers 
whose Christian names are found in the folio of 1623, and, therefore, very 
properly retained in this edition, although usually omitted. ' John Bates> 
Alexander Court, and Michael Williams,' are private soldiers in King 
Henry's army." 

With this notice of Mr. King's views, the whole case is 
with the court. 



474 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 



APPENDIX TO THIRD EDITION. 



The following observations on what seems to give intrinsic 
evidence of being another work by Shakespeare were writ- 
ten during a trip to Spain in the spring of 1879, and, having 
faith in them, they appear to be entitled to a place, along with 
some other desultory matter, to this nook in the rafters of a 
third edition : Gr. W. 

Madrid, Spain, April 25, 1879. 

In this rather out-of-the way place for such a chance, I have for- 
tunately fallen upon a copy of the London " Athenaeum" of February 
15th, containing an article, under the above caption, from the pen of 
J. Payne Collier, claiming to have discovered another tragedy by 
Shakespeare. 

I first saw a reference to this announcement at Paris, in the New 
York " Herald " of the subsequent March 4th, in the form of a literary 
notice, which, however, though it reprinted most of Mr. Collier's mat- 
ter, took no ground in the thus offered controversy. I was much 
struck, nevertheless, with Mr. C.'s views and extracts, and, as was 
natural to one who had given some attention to Shakespearean sub- 
jects, was desirous of making a few observations of my own upon 
such an interesting topic ; but, of course, this could not be ventured 
until I had consulted the original ; and it was my bad luck to be dis- 
appointed in several efforts to have the necessary " Athenaeum " for- 
warded to me from London. This will account for the lateness on 
my part in forming an opinion. 

Mr. Collier, to whom, among other things, belongs the credit of 
having drawn out from Lord Chief Justice Campbell the well-known. 



Appendix to Third Edition. 475 

essay on the legalisms of Shakespeare, introduces his subject by say- 
ing: 

" I believe — indeed, I am confident — that I have found another 
tragedy by Shakespeare — at least, one in the authorship of which he 
was importantly concerned. I suspected it when I was thirty, and 
now I am ninety I am convinced of it. 

"The evidence is entirely internal, for, unlike Arden of Fev- 
ersham, there is no tradition on the subject, but, like Arden of 
Feversham, the story is domestic, and relates to the murder of a hus- 
band by his wife nearly twenty years before Shakespeare was a 
popular writer for the stage. The title of it is, ' A Warning for Fair 
Women,' and it was printed in 1599 anonymously. Till now, the 
name of Shakespeare has never been connected with it, but the 
strongest internal evidence shows it, in my opinion, to be his. The 
main incident is mentioned by Holinshed under the date of 1573 ; 
the name of the murdered husband was Sanders and the murderer 
Brown, the wife Anne conspiring and consenting to the murder. 
After the deed, we have a scene of remorse, reproach, and repent- 
ance by the wife in the presence of her paramour and a friend of 
the name of Drewry ; and, if the following be not by Shakespeare, I 
must admit myself strangely mistaken. It could proceed from no 
other mind and pen." 

With these preliminary remarks, Mr. Collier introduces the fol- 
lowing extracts and observations in support of his conclusions : 

11 'Deewey. See where Master Brown is; in him take comfort^ 

And learn to temper your excessive grief. 
Anne. Ah ! bid me feed on poison and be fat, 

Or look upon the basilisk and live ; 

Or surfeit daily and be still in health, 

Or leap into the sea and not be drown'd. 

All these are even as possible as this, 

That I should be recomforted by him 

That is the author of my whole lament. 
Beown. Why, mistress Anne, I love you dearly ; 

And but for your incomparable beauty, 

My soul had never dreamt of Sanders' death. 

Then give me that which now I do deserve — 

Yourself, your love ; and I will be to you 

A husband so devote as none more just, 

Or more affectionate shall tread this earth. 
Anne. If you can crave it of me with a tongue 

That hath not been profan'd with wicked vows. 



476 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

Or think it in a heart did never harbor 

Pretence of murder, or put forth a hand 

As not contaminate with shedding blood, 

Then will I willingly grant your request. 

But, oh ! your hand, your heart, your tongue, and eye, 

Are all presenters of my misery.' 

" I stake my reputation," says Mr. Collier, " on the fact that the 
-above, and more, was contributed by our great dramatist ; his hand 
is to be traced distinctly in several other places. Brown, the mur- 
derer, thus invokes the night : 

"'0 sable night ! sit on the eye of heaven, 

That it discern not this black deed of darkness.' 

Compare this with ' Macbeth,' Act III, Scene 2 : 

" ' Come, seeling night, 
Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day.' 

"Again, later in the play, Anne, the guilty wife, thus entreats 
Mrs. Drewry, an accomplice, not to betray her : 

" ' ISTow is the hour come 
To put your love unto the toach, to try 



Which is repeated in ' Richard III,' Act IV, Scene 2 : 

" ' Now do I play the touch 
To try if thou be current gold indeed.' 

" In another place the repentant murderer exclaims : 

" ' I gave him fifteen wounds, 
Which now be fifteen mouths that do accuse me : 
In every wound there is a bloody tongue, 
Which will all speak,' etc. 

" For a repetition of which see ' Julius Caesar,' Act III, Scene 2 : 

" ' And put a tongue 
In every wound of Caasar,' etc. 

" There can, I think, be no doubt," continues Mr. Collier, " as to 
the identity of mind and hand in many other parts of the ' Warning 
for Fair Women.' That Shakespeare had a coadjutor, or coadjutors* 
is true from the inferiority of thought and style ; and the discussion 
"between Tragedy and Comedy for superiority is very tame and poor. 
Only a single copy of this domestic tragedy is known. The murder 



Appendix to Third Edition. 477 

took place on Shooter's Hill, and Holinshed gives the details, vol. ii, 
p. 1258. Shakespeare did not contribute very much to the perform- 
ance, but the slightest touch of his pen is clearly visible. 

"J. Payne Collier." 

These are the proofs of Mr. Collier ; and my opinion runs with 
his. But I am told that his views have not been favorably received, 
either in England or America, and that in the latter country they 
have even, in some cases, been rejected with derision. I regret to 
hear this, for Mr. Collier's conspicuous position as a Shakespearean 
critic, his conscientious labors in the field of literature, his advanced 
age and universally acknowledged unimpaired mental powers, entitle 
him to greater consideration and more respectful treatment ; at least, 
those who differ with him should accord his positions critical exami- 
nation, and support their opposition with some show of argument and 
reason. Consequently, I shall continue to think, with Mr. Collier, 
that all of the language of the " Warning for Fair Women," which 
he has above quoted, contains internal evidence, that can hardly be 
resisted, of being from the same mint that produced the recognized 
William Shakespeare's plays. I would select and rely most strongly 
for this evidence upon the foregoing two remarkable speeches of 
Anne to her accomplice Brown, and I think I can supply, from my 
own memory, a Shakespearean quotation out of an undoubted play 
of our great poet (which has evidently escaped Mr. Collier's recollec- 
tion), and which I hold to be stronger, as a similitude, in proof of his 
case, than any quotation of his. The passage I allude to is from 
" Richard II " ; and I suggest that it be critically compared in thought, 
imagery, and arrangement of the figures with the first seven lines of 
Anne, as given above : 

Bolingbboke. O, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, 
By bare imagination of a feast ? 
Or wallow naked in December snow, 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? 

Richard II, Act I, Scene 3. 

Here we find the same style of contrasted argumentative repul- 
sion, the same brilliant and rapid brain-coinage of opposing images, 
wielded irresistibly by the poet's reasoning faculty, in both cases; 
and I defy any one to justly say that the passage from " Richard JI" 
is the best of the two. 



478 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

It appears, from what Mr. Collier says, that there is but one copy 
of the "Warning for Fair Women" in existence, and he rather indi- 
cates that such copy is in his possession ; a fact which makes it not 
unlikely that, if the public had general access to the work, some of 
us might find other similitudes equally striking as the one which has 
Tewarded me. 

Thus far, no privilege has been asked to polish the new text ; for, 
though that portion of the Sixteenth Century from which the " Warn- 
ing " comes is notorious for corrupt interpolations of the press, and 
for gross deformities of not only Shakespeare but all the early writ- 
ers, through the stupidities of clumsy compositors (as in the case with 
" Evening Mass ") and proof-readers without ear for music, Mr. Col- 
lier reliably hands these " great remains " over to the examination of 
the Nineteenth Century, as if he disdained to ask anything to lead 
its judgment. There they are, like a portion of the bulk of some 
great megatherium or mammoth, with the dirt still clogging its ears 
and organs of poetic respiration, awaiting the voluntary aid which 
nearly three centuries of obsequious commentators have bestowed 
upon " Julius Caesar " and " Othello." But let us deal with the difficul- 
ties of our subject precisely as the critics have always dealt with ob- 
vious errors or originals when first discovered ; that is, let us " try 
them " by striking out the evident interpolations, and by mending 
the phrase, so as to restore the sense or music, and we shall soon, 
without violence or any alarming liberty, reach a satisfactory conclu- 
sion. And why not, since this reasonable method of proceeding is 
not only conceded to the critics, but has become so widely recog- 
nized as to be latterly extended even to a popular English actor in 
his alteration of one of the best known lines in " Hamlet." 

Let us, therefore, be accorded the privilege, in trial of the matter 
produced by Mr. Collier, of striking out, as printers' errors, the two 
little words " where " and " is " in the first line spoken by Drewry ; 
and let us be allowed the further privilege of changing the final word 
" dearly " * for " tenderly " in the first line of the speech of the mur- 
derer Brown, and also of supplanting the word " beauty " for the 
more expressive word " self," 2 at the end of his second line, so as to 
make it read — 

"And but for your incomparable self," 

1 Our proof-reader was probably an Irishman, who pronounced the word 
" dearly" as " dai-ri-ly," and, having thus given it three syllables, preferred it to 
" tenderly," which had no more. 

s It might also have been that the same printer could not understand how 
the little word "self," which was a comprehensive compliment to the whole 



Appendix to Third Edition. 479 

upon which corrections we will find the matchless melody of Shake- 
speare's rhythm immediately restored. Moreover, the line is forti- 
fied by the change ; a strong thought is advanced in place of a weak 
platitude, and a ring imparted to the cadence, which in thought as 
well as rhythm is incontestably Shakespearean. 

These are but trifling alterations, and really not as much as have 
been granted to Mr. Irving, 3 against nearly three centuries of " Ham- 
let," almost without dispute. Besides, ours are more natural changes, 
for those which I suggest are mere matters of form, which, as I have 
already intimated, are the mere specks of foreign matter that had 
been forced into the ears and nostrils of the literary mastodon while 
it lay unseen. 

It suggests itself to me also that, probably, the rather too ready 
skeptics of the day who have scouted at Mr. Collier's proofs do not 
like the sound of the names of Brown and Drewry — not having been 
accustomed to them in such imperial poetic association — and possi- 
bly, therefore, regard them as vulgar and utterly un-Shakespearean. 
I have no arguments to meet such objections, except, perhaps, the 
remark that, while such critics revolt at these new cognomens, their 
sense of music will probably adhere to Master Brook and Page, and 
Shallow and Slender, and Bull-Calf and Pistol, as chiming with the 
music of the spheres. In this connection, and while treating of 
Shakespearean sounds and phrases, I can not refrain from directing 
special attention to the masterful manner in which the poet uses the 
word " lament," also the phrase " a husband so devote," and the 
other phrase of " as not contaminate," which occur in the speeches 
of Anne and Brown. They seem to revive our recollection of the 
very voice of Shakespeare as in some floating sound, inculcated by 
our years of reading among his acknowledged works. And, above 
all, let us not overlook the remarkable comparisons and identities of 
thought which Mr. Collier points out to us from " Macbeth," " Rich- 
ard III," and " Julius Caesar " with his new matter, not forgetting, 
while doing so, that Shakespeare not unfrequently plagiarized upon 
himself. 

But what I regard as the strongest piece of internal evidence of 
the authenticity of the lines produced by Mr. Collier, is the remark- 



woman, including her mind, soul, and entire nature, wa3 a larger praise than to 
applaud the mere charm of her cheek. And thus, probably, he has been induced 
io deprive us of the author's original idea for his own. 
3 " The cat will mew, the dog will have his bay." 



480 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

able similarity in style, conception, and handling of the imagery in 
the first speech of Anne, in " A Warning for Fair Women," as com- 
pared with that of Bolingbroke, in Shakespeare's undoubted tragedy 
of " Richard II." To follow the course of Dr. Johnson, when he 
decided finally in favor of the authenticity of the much-disputed 
" Two Gentlemen of Verona," if these be not the syllables of Shake- 
speare, and obviously the coinage of his brain, to whom else can they 
be assigned? Geo. Wilkes. 



Appendix to Third Edition. 48 1 



APPENDIX NO. 2. 



First views of the author about "Evening Mass," as 
formerly contained in pages 47, 48, and 49 of the first and 
second editions : 

The great probability is that Shakespeare had never heard mass 
otherwise than secretly, and in the evening, except, indeed, during 
some transient trip to Paris (if he had ever found time during his 
busy London life to make one) ; and even then it is doubtful if he 
would have spent any of his precious holiday hours at church. His 
general knowledge of the doctrines, dogmas, tenets, rites, and formula 
of the Church of Rome might have been obtained from his mother, 
or from the carefully hidden Prayer-book of the family ; while his 
entire comprehension of the ceremony of mass was probably obtained 
from the hedge-priests, whom the devoted piety of his mother gave 
stealthy admission to the Shakespeare homestead during the Eliza- 
bethan period of Catholic persecution. I have found many illustra- 
tions from old Church reviews and other reliable Catholic authori- 
ties of the practices of the hedge-priests, as they were called, in 
times of Catholic persecution, whose business it was to go in the 
darkness of the evening to the houses of the faithful to celebrate a 
nocturnal mass. This was probably the case with Shakespeare's 
paternal home and family, and "evening mass" was doubtless the 
only mass our poet ever heard. 1 

1 u In the darkest days of the penal code, when learning was proscribed in 
Ireland, and when it was treason for the Catholic Celt to teach or be taught, to 
receive or communicate instruction, the hedge-school-master braved the terrors of 
the law, eluded the vigilance of spies, and kept the lamp of knowledge still burn- 

31 



482 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

In regard to mass in general, authoritative Catholic works indi- 
cate that the main reason why it is fixed as a morning ceremony is 
because of the extraordinary sanctity which Catholics attach to the 
consecrated elements (believing them as they do to be transubstan- 
tiated into the real body and blood of Christ), the early Popes 
deemed it irreverent on the part of the clergy and faithful to partake 
of them after a meal of a material kind. It would also seem, from 
the works of the most learned Catholic divines, that mass was said, 
during that period of Church history called " History of the Cata- 
combs," at night ; and, indeed, in the Apostolic Age it was undoubt- 
edly a nocturnal service, since it is in reality only a commemoration 
of the Last Supper. According to the best authorities, it was Pope 
St. Telesphorus, a. d. 128, who ordered this service to be said in the 
morning at tierce, or at nine o'clock. This pope likewise decreed 
that on Christmas-eve a mass might be celebrated at twelve o'clock 
at night in honor of the Nativity, and he added to the missal the 
noble hymn of praise, "Gloria in Excelsis." Still, even after the 
publication of this decree, masses were said, during periods of perse- 
cution, in the vaults and chapels of the Catacombs quite late at night. 
When the Church emerged thence into broad daylight, this practice 
ceased, and the decree of Pope Telesphorus was obeyed to the letter. 

During the middle ages, even Catholic historians confess that 
many abuses crept into their Church, and it would seem that there 
were many gross ones concerning even the solemn rite of mass. The 
custom of saying mass for the dead was doubtless one of the princi- 
pal causes of this deplorable state of affairs ; for, as is well known, 
persons of rank and wealth would often leave large sums of money 
to the priests, in order to pay for masses to be said for the repose of 
their souls, and of those of their relatives and friends. To rid them- 
selves of the obligation of celebrating so many masses, the dissolute 
and conscienceless among the clergy would even run one mass into 
another, or say as many as three and four in a morning, without 
leave from their ecclesiastical superiors. 9 They likewise invented a 

ing in darkness, storm, and desolation. If we cherish the memory of the Soggarth 
Aroon, who often at dead of night fled to the mountain cave, the wooded glen, 
and wild rath to celebrate mass for the faithful and persecuted flock, and, like 
the Hebrew priests of old, to preserve the sacred fire till the dawn of a happier 
era, when the sun of freedom would kindle it into a blaze. . . ." — "Paper on 
Bishop England," by Professor Mulrenan, published in New York in the " Man- 
hattan Monthly" for March, 1875. 

2 See Appletons' " Encyclopaedia," 1875 : Father O'Reilly's article on the 
Mass. 



Appendix to Third Edition. 483 

service called the Missa Sicca, which was generally said for the re- 
pose of the dead. It consisted of the recitation of the first part of 
mass, or Introit, and was a " dry mass," since none of the liquids 
were introduced into it ; for, as already stated, the act of consecra- 
tion did not take place. It was, however, called a mass, and was 
celebrated most frequently in the afternoon. The Council of Trent 
abolished it as a gross abuse, since it had occasioned much scandal. 
It sprang into existence toward the eleventh century, and continued 
down to the close of the sixteenth. It was an invention doubtless of 
some unworthy clergymen, in order to free themselves of a portion of 
the numerous masses they were paid to say for the dead. It could 
be said at any time, and as often as they chose, and hence they could 
rid themselves of their responsibility at a very short notice. More- 
over, as they could only solemnize one genuine mass a day, without 
running the risk of being suspended by their bishops, they could say 
twenty of these mutilated services, and count them to their pur- 
chasers as regular work. It is not improbable, besides, that this 
Missa Sicca was known to the common people before the Reforma- 
tion as " evening mass." For, in " Ivanhoe," Sir Walter Scott says 
that Rowena arrived late at the banquet, as she had only just re- 
turned from attending "evening mass" at a neighboring priory. It 
seems to me that Scott, who was exceedingly well versed in all 
things concerning the history and rites of the Catholic Church, 
would not have made this statement unless he had some authority 
for so doing. 3 Shakespeare may have heard of the Missa Sicca as 
an evening service, and thus alluded to it in this play ; and it may 
as well be here observed that the monastery to which Friar Lau- 
rence belonged was a Franciscan house, which order was, and is still, 
remarkable — to use the Catholic phraseology 4 — " for its devotion to 
the dead and to the souls in purgatory"; in other words, for its 
popularity in praying and saying masses for the departed. Another 
explanation of this much-disputed phrase, " evening mass," may also 
be gathered from the fact that in Catholic countries, to this day, the 
fashionable mass is the last; said often at one and even at two 

3 On the other hand, by way of showing the habitual license of poets, we will 
direct the attention of the reader to the following lines from the exquisite poem of 
" Under the Violets," by Oliver Wendell Holmes : 

" The crickets, sliding through the grass, 
Shall pipe for her an evening mass." 

4 " History of the Franciscans." Albany : Baxter & Co. 



484 Shakespeare, from an American Point of View. 

o'clock in the afternoon. In the sixteenth century, one or two 
o'clock in the day was already a late hour, for people rose at five, 
breakfasted at six, dined between ten and eleven, and had supper at 
seven in the evening ; thus closing the day at an hour when modern 
" society " is most occupied. Shakespeare may have considered the 
last, or one o'clock mass, an " evening mass " ; and this is not so im- 
probable, since the text leads us to understand that Juliet designs to 
wait upon him in his cell alone, which she could not have done 
under the circumstances of the play, as no young lady of her age 
would have been allowed to go out alone at midnight in such a city 
as Verona. 



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